#Also posted on AO3

[bonsubear]

Reader loves Invincible but hates Mark┃Mark/Invincible x Fangirl! Reader┃#3

totally hasn't been a month since I updated this series guys... :p

#1, #2, #3, #?

CW: ooc, cringe prob

WC: 3.5k

Mark wasn’t expecting taking pictures to be so… hard? The idea of taking pictures of himself seemed relatively easy but actually putting it in practice was surprisingly hard.

He took punches from his dad during training that hurt like hell, was thrown around like a rag doll and slammed to the ground that left him sore for weeks against everyday villains and been painted black and blue with bruises that stained his body like he was some sort of volunteer for a body painting class.

No matter what was thrown at him, literally or figuratively, he came back standing tall and strong. Yet, Mark was being bested by a phone camera that could not—no matter how many times he embarrassingly posed in the air—take a good picture of him.

To cut himself some slack, it's tricky to try and take shots when flying in the air by yourself while making it seem like someone else took it.

He tried to set down his phone and put it on a three, five, or ten second timer and make it seem like Invincible was taken off guard by a photo around the city—but it was like there was a curse placed upon him that made every single one of them appear blurry, unappealing, and unattractive.

Mark groaned, laying down on top of a random building, his phone beside him. He dug his hands in his hair, pushing his black locks back as he had been out here taking pictures for hours and still didn't have anything presentable for you.

It's been three days since he got your number, and he hasn't been able to start any conversation with you through text. Mark had hoped to start the perfect conversation with Invincible photos, but that plan seemed to be going up in flames with how he had zero presentable pictures.

Tomorrow is a Monday, and he didn't want to see you without having proved he was an Invincible fan to gain some favorability.

He felt really nervous, anxious, and embarrassed. Mark wanted to present to you what he promised with a silver platter, hearing you light up and praise him with blooming happiness.

It felt so stupid, so dumb but—ugh. He wanted to hear you sing praises towards him, just like how you sing praises to his superhero counterpart all the time.

He would never get riled up or upset about the fact that you would constantly insult and verbally abuse his character every chance you got, but for some reason, he easily gets worked up when his mind would track back to your admiration towards Invincible.

He had this jealousy towards Invincible that he had a hard time coming to terms with. For Pete's sake, Mark was Invincible but every time he imagined you practically drooling over his superhero counterpart in spandex, he wanted to beat himself up.

It was ridiculous. Mark knows he's him, but you don't.

Mark wants to hear you say something nice about him. A praise, a compliment—anything that Mark earned fair and square without the mask. Even a simple "hey, good job I guess!" would suffice.

As long as it comes from you, the most beautiful and gorgeous girl he has ever laid eyes on, he'll be set.

.

.

.

... What.

His body tensed as he immediately sat up from the floor, his face burning with a pink flush as he had taken in the thought that crept inside his mind.

Sure, he wasn't going to deny the fact that you were beautiful—you are! You take care of yourself like crazy with the products you buy and use every time he saw you at school so it's perfectly natural to think you're a very pretty individual—well, even without those he knows that you'll still look amazing!

Mark would be crazy to think you’re not! Hell, if you gave him the chance, he'll kiss the ground you walk on just because of how attractive you are to him!

... What.

His cheeks flushed a deeper pink, edging close to red as his hands flung to hold his face. What was that?! Mark internally screamed as steam was practically emitting from his face because of his embarrassing thoughts.

He felt sick, his stomach doing backflips as a sudden whirl of images of you appeared in his head.

Mark stared and observed you long enough that all angles of you were burned into his memory. Those long moments he looked at you during class was now biting him in the ass, leaving him a redden mess as he tried to calm himself.

That—is definitely not a creepy way to think about a potential new friend, right?

It's nothing weird, he thinks—or more so he tries to convince himself.

He's simply stating the obvious to no one but himself! Perfectly normal thing to do! Mark just really wants to be friends with you because you’re awesome, you’re into nerdy stuff like him and you'll make a perfect potential new candidate for friendship!

Perfectly normal to stare at your number and jot down potential first messages in his notes app to find the perfect one to send to you!

Perfectly normal to rehearse how to talk to you in the mirror for the past three days so that you'll start to see him as a cool guy rather than the guy you hate with a burning passion!

Perfectly normal to search up what other stuff he can buy for you and start putting some money on the side reserved just for you if an opportunity like that ever happens again!

Perfectly... normal... yeah. Normal friend stuff.

"So, this is where you ran off to?" A familiar deep voice snapped him out of his thoughts, causing Mark to jolt. Before standing up, he scrambled to get his phone and put it behind him. "Imagine my surprise when your mom woke me up asking where you were."

"D-Dad! Hheeyy." Mark cringed; his cheeks were still dusted a light pink. "What, uh, what are you doing here?" He squeaked out.

"What are you doing here? Your mom's been looking for you." Nolan raised a brow, looking at his son with curiosity. He was wearing his Invincible suit and was obviously hiding something behind his back.

"N-Nothing! Nothing. I just went out flying for a bit, heh." Mark shrugged his shoulders, trying to remain casual to hide the fact that he had been out here taking pictures of himself for you.

How much time had passed that his dad went out looking for him? It's been a couple of hours sure—but not that long, right?

"Uh-huh." Nolan nodded his head slowly, not convinced at all by the reasoning. With Mark's entire arm hidden by his back, it was clear that his son was hiding something. "I take it that whatever is behind your back is a part of," he paused, raising his hands to do air quotations, "flying?"

"Yup! Exactly!" Mark nodded quickly, toeing around his dad while still shielding his phone behind him like it was some sort of ancient relic. It would be embarrassing if his dad found out what he was actually doing—he would never live it down.

"I'm, uh, going to do some more flying! —so just tell mom I'll be back in a jiff!"

"Have fun with your 'flying'—and whatever your hiding behind there." Nolan let out a dry laugh, watching his son's cheeks flush into a deep shade of red as he stuttered out a reply.

"Behind my—whaaat? I don't know what you’re talking about dad," He raised his free hand to do a circle motion to his head, "I think old age is getting to you—uh, anyway, bye! Gotta go take—I mean, fly! See you at home!" Mark yelped, leaping off the building and taking flight.

Nolan watched the blue and yellow silhouette of his son disappear, zooming past a building with so much speed that he had never seen him have before.

He paused before letting out a deep laugh, shaking his head.

Mark sat at the dinner table. He was helping his mom by folding pieces of square paper into origami swans. It was for leaving a nice touch to the houses that his mom was selling—or something like that.

He didn't really know the whole reason why, listening to his mom absentmindedly as he was busy tapping his foot as his hands mindlessly moved on their own, thinking about you and the photos that he took today.

The recent ones he took before coming home were surprisingly better, but not anything crazy good. They looked so immature, like a baby with wobbly hands took them.

"-rk? Mark?" His mom's voice called out to him, and Mark snapped out of his thoughts. He accidentally ripped the paper origami that he was halfway into making, startled at suddenly hearing his mom’s voice.

"Uh, yeah?” He laughed awkwardly as he stared at the blue paper he just ripped, sheepishly pushing it aside. “Whoops.”

"What are you thinking about? I've been calling your name for five minutes," Debbie laughed, shaking her head as she grabbed the swan origamis that Mark had mindlessly folded. "Thinking about something important?”

He shook his head, his leg jumping up and down.

“Okay. How about someone important?—"

"No!" Mark straightened his back at the mention of 'someone,' an image of you flashing in his mind. His anxious leg stopped bouncing, coming to a halt as he blinked at his mom.

Debbie raised a curious brow at his reaction, his reply to what she had innocently asked being a bit too fast.

Her son cleared his throat, trying to act casually and brush off his odd behavior. "Ha, I mean, no. Nothing important, really."

"Hm." Debbie let out an amused hum, wiggling her eyebrows at her son's contorting face. It was funny, but almost sad how clear his emotions were written on his face. Even though a part of her wanted to find out what was going on with him, she sighed as she decided against it. “Whatever you say, Mark.” She chuckled.

A small silence passed between them, before Mark broke it. "You know, actually, mom I do have sort of a question to ask you."

"Yes?"

"Hypothetically," Mark cleared his throat, gesturing with his hands. "would there be a reason why someone would randomly just hate another person?" He shrugged his shoulders, trying to seem disinterested at the possible answer.

"Hate? That's a strong word. Are you sure hate is the right word in this 'hypothetical' question?"

"Yeah! Like, really hate. Hate to the point," Mark didn't notice the small smile that crept on the corner of his lips, but Debbie certainly did, "where she—they insult you every day and call you a creep and stuff."

Debbie was taken aback at this, blinking before responding. It was obvious that this situation was about him and some other person, specifically a girl with how he fumbled on his words. “Can I have more info about this—“

“Hypothetical—“

“—hypothetical situation?”

Mark squinted, blowing raspberries before speaking again. “Like, this girl, just really hates this guy for some reason even though the guy didn’t really do anything. Or at least, not that he remembers.” He sheepishly elaborated, grabbing another square sheet of paper to continue folding.

“Oh, he must’ve done something alright. No one just hates someone for no reason.”

“But he doesn’t remember doing anything bad!”

“It doesn’t have to be something drastic—it can be something so small that really impacted her.” Debbie explained. “We’ve all disliked a person for the pettiest of reasons that doesn’t really make sense. Something that was so unmemorable to you was so memorable to her, it happens.” She shrugged.

“Yeah, okay, but—wait me? This, this isn’t about me, mom.” He caught her words, his cheeks warming. “It’s a hypothetical question for someone I know at school. Not, pfft, not for me.”

“Sure.” Debbie nodded, a sly smile on her lips. “Not for you.”

“Mhm. Anyway, what do you think the guy should do to get the girl to not, y’know, hate him?” He brought a hand to rub the back of his neck, scratching his nape awkwardly as he inquired.

“Spend a lot of time with her. Even if you have to force some situations.”

“Spend... time with her?” Mark deadpanned; the solution she provided sounded too simple to work. 

Debbie nodded, already seeing the gears turning in his head as he ingested her words. “Just find ways to be constantly around her. Show her you aren’t as bad as a guy that she thought you were from whatever mistake you did.”

Mark hesitated for a moment before speaking, thinking long and hard about the simple wisdom his mom had bestowed on him.

Suddenly, he stood up, knocking his chair backwards as he ran over to the staircase. “Thanks mom! That really, really helps actually!” He smiled, stepping on the stairs. He halted, popping his head around the corner. “But again, the hypothetical situation wasn’t for me—it’s for someone I know from school.”

"Sure it is, I'll believe that when pigs fly!" Debbie sang, wiggling her brows at her son that had a deep flush spread through his face.

"Nice talk, mom!" Mark waved a dismissive hand, running up the stairs to his room.

Argh, it isn’t hard! … Just send it… Send it!

Mark internally screamed at himself; his eyes glued on his phone that was laid flat on its back on the comfort of his bed.

He had been going on a cycle of pacing around the room and staring intently at his phone screen trying to convince himself that sending a message to you wasn’t going to be the end of the world.

But honestly—it might. What if you decide to block him because his first message was weird? Sure, he worked hard on it, but he worked hard on a lot of things yet still screwed it up!

He dug his fingers in his scalp, kneeling in front of the open phone screen that had a chatroom open. The profile picture of the letter of your first name was taunting him, Mark imagining it was sticking its tongue out with how stupid he looked for the past forty-five minutes.

The Vasian had already typed out the message he wanted to send, picking the best one from his notes app. Now, if only he had the strength to just—push the send button!

Mark thought to consult William about this, but he would never live it down. His best friend didn’t need a reason to actually believe that he was into “getting off” at mean girls.

Not that he would ever get off to you in a million years! That would be disrespectful—and indecent! You didn’t deserve to be only used as some sort of finishing material!

Mark Grayson groaned, “Aaahh, what am I thinking?!” He jumped on his best, his phone bouncing. His thoughts suddenly shifted to masturbation rather than sending a text message to kick start his plan—those two didn’t correlate at all!

From his mom’s simple words of wisdom, he realized that she was right.

If he were to force you two to hang out with each other so frequently, you would start not hating him because of how you’ll realize he was a perfect friend for you!

You wouldn’t hate him anymore! Whatever he did to make you hate him so much just—poof! Gone!

… But how is he supposed to make that happen when he can’t even pass the first step of his plan?!

Mark bit his lip, staring up at his ceiling as he fished for his phone that he jumped next to. His fingers grazed over the open screen, accidentally hitting some letters on the keyboard as he tried to grasp for his electronic.

Ping!

His heart froze, the familiar sound of a message sending sounding next to him.

He scrambled to sit up, making his neatly folded bed a mess as he accidentally knocked down one of his pillows to the floor.

He shakily brought his phone to his eyesight, trembling as he saw what he had just done.

Mark Grayson Hey👋🏻 It’s Mark Grayson. You gave me your phone number at the mall 3 days ago. I have the photos of Invincible if you want to take a look 😄 I’ve been busy so forgot to show you😅 z zsl ᴰᵉˡᶦᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ

“Z-Z-S-L?” He read his mistype out loud when his fingers accidentally brushed up against his keyboard. “Who sends Z-Z-S-L?! That wasn’t supposed to be there!” He shouted, embarrassment overriding his entire nervous system.

Should I delete it? No, it’ll only delete on my end—not hers! Fuck, fuck, fuck—

Mark Grayson Hey👋🏻 It’s Mark Grayson. You gave me your phone number at the mall 3 days ago. I have the photos of Invincible if you wanna take a look 😄 I’ve been busy, so forgot to show you😅 z zsl ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

(Y/N) (L/N) oh

(Y/N) (L/N) thats ok ig

(Y/N) (L/N) lemme see

Mark's phone had immediately buzzed three times in only one second after he sent that message, his eyes in shock that you replied so fast. He had expected to wait for a few hours for hours to receive a response, but that seemed to be not the case.

He swallowed thickly, nervous but happy that he got your attention.

Mark Grayson Okay👍🏻 Sending them now🙃 ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

Mark Grayson [5 photo attachments] ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

Mark had only sent you a third of the pictures he had taken today, making sure to choose the best ones.

His back was up against the wall as he had his phone only centimeters away from his face, not blinking so that he would read your reaction the millisecond it seconds.

He subconsciously held his breath, the minutes ticking by so slowly. If he wasn't half viltrumite, he would've probably passed out with how long he was holding his breath for.

(Y/N) (L/N) jsjdjsskk

(Y/N) (L/N) my brain short circuited wtf

(Y/N) (L/N) im legit creaming my pants

(Y/N) (L/N) n u took those ?? thank GOD ur smooth brain didnt mess up those glorious pics

(Y/N) (L/N) hes so fineeeeeeee

Relief crashed over him, his tense muscles relaxing as he let out a giddy laugh. He rolled to his side, his smile reaching his ears as he took a moment to reread your text messages.

Even through text, you were endearing, and it seemed like you were more softer. While you still called him stupid, it was definitely less explosive if you were physically in front of him.

God, he was so happy you liked them.

Mark Grayson Do you believe me that I'm also an Invincible fan now?😁 ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

(Y/N) (L/N) idk wouldnt u like to know weather boy

Mark Grayson ? ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

(Y/N) (L/N) but actually good job n the pics, theyre so up close n personal

(Y/N) (L/N) thx

Mark let out an unimaginable squeal. It sounded inhuman—had he always been able to make a noise like that!? Was it possible to feel this happy and overjoyed over just a few pixels?

He hurriedly replied with a thank you, trying to come off like your small praise towards him wasn't a big deal to him. Which it totally was, but you didn't need to know that.

Mark Grayson Do you want to hangout after school? 🤔 ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

(Y/N) (L/N) tf hell no

(Y/N) (L/N) why would i willingly choose to be seen in public with u

(Y/N) (L/N) i already gave to charity n that was 3 days ago

Mark Grayson Not even if I have more Invincible stuff to show you? 😄 ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

(Y/N) (L/N)keys

Mark Grayson raised his brow. "Keys?" He whispered, tilting his head in confusion.

(Y/N) (L/N) fine wtv, but ur getting in my car so i can swerve in a nearby tree if i have to

(Y/N) (L/N) i know u dont get bitches so its a new experience but

(Y/N) (L/N) dont drool in my car ok creep

(Y/N) (L/N) i'll bill u the cleaning fee if u do

Mark Grayson I won't do that I promise ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

Mark Grayson I'll see you at school tomorrow then! 😊 ᴰᵉˡᶦᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ

Mark Grayson Where do you want to go after school? ᴰᵉˡᶦᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ

The read receipts suddenly turned into delivered, and he pursued his lips in disappointment. Though, his spirits lifted as he reminded himself that he got to successfully get you to hang out with him after school!

While the details of where you guys would be going will be fuzzy since you didn't reply, Mark still took it as a victory!

... Now, he just needs to figure out what Invincible stuff to you show you since he promised it. It couldn't be just more pictures; it had to be something more than that.

Mark sighed—at least he had 24 hours to figure it out.

keys = kill yourself

How I feel updating this fic after a month has passed:

Tag List for All Works: @calicocat-ina-tuxedo

[clown420cunt]

Feel the music - E. M x fem!reader

Summary: Travelling in the hazy world of rock n roll in the minds eye of two buzzed heads, turn sensual with the only witness being the darkness and speakers swimming around the room.

Aka you and Eddie got stoned and make love™ to Led Zeppelin, enjoy.

Warnings: Implied drug use (weed), if the mentioned is triggering please do not read.

Tags: Eddie x Fem!reader, established relationship,sensual smut, making love, fingering, oral!female receiving, p in v sex(wrap it before you tap it).

Masterlist - AO3

Not beta read.

Word count: 857

Minors!DNI

———————————————————————

The lights are off and it’s so warm.

The heavy feeling of an arm slung over her midriff is the most present feeling she’s feeling, next to the soft shield of the two duvets shes buried under.

Led zeppelin is playing loudly through speakers, the submerging sound of the bass thumping through her ears as the drums and guitar join in and transports her away from the bed and into the darkness.

Every note can be heard and the vibrations the instruments make flowing the room making her one with the music.

Eddie stirrers and the floaty feeling fates from her body and into her head again, making all movement seem sluggish and slow.

He hugs her tightly, breathing into her neck.

The high had started to fade and make both of them sleepy and dopey, swinging in the blissful space just beside consciousness.

The effect of the drug still holding onto her fussy brain making everything soft and warm.

He’s hands are moving onto her thigh and squeezes slightly, the warmth of his palm travelling to the forefront of her senses.

Mixing with the soft and comforting feeling the duvet cocoon is bringing.

Soft lips are placed on the nape of her neck, small butterfly kisses running along the seam to her back.

Fingers sliding across the flesh of her thigh, coming to lay on the soft mound.

Small touches and pets sending waves supply over her body making it vibrate.

The hand continues its movements running under fabric and settling in the same spot as before.

The kisses stoped, leaving the ghost of kisses at the top of her back, his warm breathing turn into goosebumps that run down her spine.

Vibrations following fingers that slights between folds with a tentative touch, waiting to see if the advances would be rejected.

No such rejection is displayed and the journey is continued.

Fingertips placing soft pressure up and down her clit, a soft sound is released as the sensation travels to toes and back up spins and past lips.

A shift from behind leaves her body to tilt on her back, creating easier access as legs move apart with the new position.

The duvets are pushed aside and soft circles are drawn, knee moved as a figure rises to a sitting position.

Dark eyes catches hers, a pair to disappear in.

The fingers run lower catching her wet entrance, playing with the edge before exploring further.

Back and forth playing her like the guitar in the music still flowing through the speakers.

Circling before entering her once again, two digits this time finding the spongy spot before the dark orbs move with his head as for a second all she sees is the dense dark curls as they decent.

The next feeling is of his wet tongue gliding over the sensitive bundle of nerve.

Floaty feelings of pleasure registering on her brain as small mewls and quiet breathless moans try to fill the space left between heavenly bass lines and beautiful guitar song.

In a flash her leg is lifted and he places himself between her thighs and it doesn’t take long for the floaty feeling of weed to mix with the pleasure of his wet muscle and skilful fingers to have her fall apart.

The electricity running down her legs making her toes curl.

A heavy hand making its way to unruly curls, pushing when the feeling gets to be too much.

He rises, using a hand to push his hair out of his face before it travels to his boxers to push them down and allow his hard member to spring free, in need of attention.

Wet fingers grab the base and travel up to use the leftover slick.

Pink dick leaking pre cum and getting mixed with her fluids in his hand.

A groan sounds out with the movement, mixing with the bass in a way that can’t be described.

The deep sound scratching the edges of her mind.

Pumping an extra time before settling at the base again to guide and slap his dickhead against her clit before inserting himself all the way.

The fullness is heavenly and welcome as he starts to pull out and thrusting back in.

Pulling her legs up and around his waist so he can lean forward and hold her.

Their lips meet, locking in sounds and grunts in their embrace.

Wet slaps and muffled whines create new notes to the chords of the album coming from the stereo.

His soft tip running along the sensitive spot inside her, the feeling of his girth stimulating her hole has her feeling used and satisfied in the best of ways.

Squeezing him as he slams his sensitive head to the deepest part of her being, releasing his seed as he stops his movements and holds her tight.

Feeling her heartbeat and the warmth of her skin grounds him as the floaty status in his head mellows to a blissful breeze.

Shifting back to lay down, the duvets are placed back over them as they both finally surrender to the darkness.

The last song fading out along with their consciousness.

———————————————————————

The album i imagine played was Led zeppelin’s self titled (The First one).

Have y’all ever gotten stoned and put on a Led Zeppelin or Pink Floyd vinyl? That shit slaps! You can actually visualise the music 😩

Also this is a little indulgent ngl, it turned out way more sensual than I expected.

[give-bucky-his-boyfriend-back]

Dean Winchester, 8 years old, made a drawing for his dad. John doesn't even look at it and throws it in the trash.

"You're a man Dean. Stop doing that and make yourself useful."

So instead of making drawings he learns how to fight. His hands no longer hold crayons, instead they hold weapons. They no longer create things, instead they break them.

Dean is 16 and Dad is no longer 'Dad'. He calls him 'sir' instead.

When Dean asks his father why, he doesn't get an answer except 'Because I say so.'

Dean is 26 and he fights. He breaks things, kills them. Where before his hands were stained red by crayons, it's blood that gives them their signature color now.

He loses his father, loses Sam over and over again,goes to hell, is brought back falls from apocalypse into apocalypse and still he fights. Now both humans and creatures fear him. The ultimate killer. His hands do what they are best at.

When Dean is 41 he loses Castiel. The angel tells him that he isn't a killer. That all that he did was for love. Cas tells him he loves him.

For the first time ever since he was 8, Dean thinks about his hands. Maybe they weren’t made to kill, to hold weapons or to break things. Maybe they are made to care, to love , to simply hold.

So instead of letting the angel go, he grabs the lapels of his coat and holds on.

"Dean what are you-"

Dean crashes his lips against Cas's, interrupting him as the darkness starts to engulf them. When they break apart , Dean looks him in his eyes and smiles.

"I love you too sunshine. And I aint letting you go this time. Not alone."

On ao3

[based-and-uncouth]

Caught in the Rain

"MePad? Me...ad! No, no- no no-!" WATER DAMAGE DETECTED. INITIATING SHUT DOWN MODE. - Taco and MePad get caught in a storm, and Taco comes up with the perfect plan to sneak herself into Hotel OJ. (It doesn't go very well).

Objects are humanized

-

It was raining— hard. The sound of raindrops pelting the leaves of the trees and the ground of the forest was peaceful and the scent of petrichor in the air calming. To the contestants inside Hotel OJ, the storm outside was nothing less than zen background noise.

To Taco, glaring at the brightly-lit building with a vengeance, this was a cold, soggy hell. Her arms wrapped around herself as she trembled in the rain, cold fingers squeezing a bit of moisture out of the drenched sleeves of her shirt. The trees she took shelter under were doing little to lessen the downpour’s onslaught against her shivering body. it had been raining for days at this point, and she was exhausted. But she had refused to stoop to the low of showing up on OJ’s doorstep, looking pathetic and sad, begging for a temporary room. She wouldn’t be caught dead doing such a degrading thing.

So, why was she here?

Well, she had a plan.

MePad’s robotic body laid lifeless beside her, wrapped in her soaked, beige vest. The fabric did virtually nothing to protect him from the rain, and yet Taco bundled him in it anyway, because that was all she could do. Meeple’s technology was advanced, but clearly not advanced enough to waterproof their own robots; MePad had shut down in the middle of the night as a branch had given way in their home (and that term was used very loosely), showering the both of them in the cold rain water that had gathered in their roof. To Taco, it was a minor annoyance with the threat of hypothermia. To MePad, with all his sensitive hardware and his electronic body…that much water could spell death. Or, the Meeple-product equivalent of it.

Taco’s breath stuttered in her chest again, and she forced down a cough. She pushed her hair, stuck wet to her face, away from her eyes, and pulled her vest-coat tighter around his robotic body. 

Come on, Taco. You can do this. This may be the only way to get inside. She thought. She took a deep breath, choking on another cough, before loading the heavy robot onto her back.His screen-chin dug into the back of her neck. Her legs nearly gave out beneath his weight, but eventually she managed to take a step. 

He needs to get dry.

Then another step.

I need to get dry.

And another, until finally, the welcoming lights casted shadows on her face.

Click she activated her InvisaBow, and the tingling feeling of going invisible shook her body. Slowly, she began to shuffle her way out of the forest. The wind and rain battered her body, pushing her off course and knocking the wind out of her lungs. They were both cold, freezing cold in this weather, and she nearly crumpled in relief at the doorstep of Hotel OJ. Her hand slapped desperately at the doorbell, a cacophony of ding-ding-didididi-ding- resounding in the hallway inside. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Jeez, calm down…” came an exasperated voice from inside.

Taco slipped MePad off her back, not-so-gracefully depositing him onto the floor with a loud CLANG. She stared at her companion, debating her plan, before finally the front doors opened. She pressed herself against the wall beside them, trying to cover her visible bow tie, and watched as OJ took in the sight.

“Oh my- MePad?!” He sounded shocked, horrified at the condition of the robot at his door. It almost made Taco flinch at the volume. “Hey! Mic, Trophy, Paintbrush! Pause that game- I need help lifting this guy. Get him to the fireplace, quick!”

What.

What?

The names of her former…friend made Taco freeze up. A gust of strong wind blew more cold rain into her face, and OJ grunted, putting a hand up to block the worst of it from hitting his face. He took MePad up by the shoulders and began to drag him inside. Taco stared with wide eyes as Microphone and Trophy rushed out of the double doors, her throat getting choked up at the sight of her old…friend. 

“Mic…?” She whispered, her words getting swallowed by the torrent around them.

Microphone and Trophy each took one of MePad’s robotic legs, shoving the robot inside and out of the rain. Taco blinked, shuttering off her shock. She had a plan she needed to stick to, she needed to. So she willed her lethargic, invisible limbs to move, and squeezed herself through the doors of Hotel OJ before they slammed closed. 

~

REBOOTING. PLEASE STAND BY.

WAKING UP SYSTEMS.

PROBLEM IDENTIFIED. INITIATING FLUID EXTRACTION PROTOCOLS.

PLEASE STAND BY.

Kssshhhhhh…

ACTIVATING INTERNAL HEATING SYSTEM.

PLEASE STAND BY.

Vvvvvrrrrrrrrrr…

WAKING UP SYSTEMS. RESTORING MEMORY.

“God, how long is this going to take?”

“I thought Meeple’s tech was- I dunno, better than this.”

“Hey shh- MePad’s waking up!”

With a few more various beeps and boops, a few whirring and shifting noises, and finally MePad blinked into life again. The LEDs of his face flickered back to the bright magenta, and the shutters covering the upper half of his face slid away. 

“Hello.” MePad greeted. He blinked, taking in all the information around him: there was a fire thrumming in the hearth to his right. Beneath him were cushions, or perhaps a couch, and on top of him were four fluffy towels. There were many people hovering above him, also with looks of concern or anticipation. OJ, Lightbulb, Microphone, Paintbrush, a few season one contestants whose names were stored in his deeper memory banks- quite a few people, that was the point. 

But…she was not among them.

“MePad! What were you doing in the pouring rain?!” OJ fretted, pulling the robot upright. His orange hair was pulled out of his face in a messy bun, and the glasses on his nose were askew. “How did you end up on the doorstep of the hotel?!”

“I do not know. All I remember is that I had gotten caught in the rain, and powered down.” MePad responded. He made a surprised sound as Trophy dropped another towel on his head. “Thank you, for saving me.”

He looked around, scanning the perimeter for the person who knew must be here somewhere. She had murmured her plan to him before he fully shut down, but he could only make out her foggy voice calling his name again and again whenever he tried to remember the plan’s phase two.

“You came all the way from the contestant grounds? But, that’s so far from here. You couldn’t have wandered here by yourself, waterlogged or not.” OJ muttered in confusion. 

“Who cares?” Trophy wrinkled his nose in disgust, lightly kicking at MePad’s metal leg before yawning. “If lugging this hunk of junk is all you needed me to do, I'm going to my room. Game night’s been ruined anyway.”

The small crowd that had formed muttered things in agreement, some wishing MePad well, before returning to their rooms for the night. Lightbulb sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“What a meanie. Don't take anything he says personally, MePad! Sometimes the weakest ones like to put up the toughest masks. But in my opinion, masks are so four years ago, and super suffocating.” She blinked. “But- but your mask is cool! It's like, glowy and stuff, and I like glowy. Wait, that is a mask, right? Or is that just your face?”

She slid down to sit beside MePad, tapping at the glass screen that was his mouth. It made MePad chuckle. Paintbrush sat beside her on the arm of the couch, rolling their eyes as Trophy yelled something about Lightbulb being a loser. 

“Well, since you’re here, soaking all the towels and taking up all the space on the couch, the least you could do is play Mario Kart with us.” A gaming controller was thrown at MePad’s chest, and he looked over to see Paintbrush holding another two. They smirked at MePad’s confused eyes. They tossed a controller to Lightbulb and Microphone, however the controller just hit Microphone’s head, and she yelped in surprise.

MePad looked over at her instead, tilting his head. She had been staring at him, it seems, and was now desperately trying to avoid it. Her eyes were distracted, and her hands were shaking as she gripped the plastic remote. Something was on her mind, and MePad had a feeling he knew what. 

Or rather, who.

“Are you ready to get creamed?” Paintbrush grinned. Microphone shook herself out of her mute trance, groaning. 

“You say that, yet the highest you’ve ever gotten is second place.”

“That's just because we end when I'm so close to winning!”

“No, it's because OJ comes and shuts us down because you’re raging too loud!”

“Wha- look who’s talking!”

As they argued, MePad looked helplessly at the TV as some animations played, the gaming controller unfamiliar in his hands. He had a feeling that Taco would be much more socially adept at whatever was going on than him. 

He hoped Taco was somewhere in the Hotel, getting dried off with fluffy towels by a fireplace, and playing games with friends. But, as much as he hated to admit it, he doubted that was true. 

~

Her plan was working perfectly. MePad’s sudden arrival had drawn many people from the common areas to the main living space, giving Taco ample time to sneak through the hotel and find a hiding spot. It was a huge, ornate building on the outside, and felt even bigger on the inside. There were so many hallways and so many doors that she began to think she had gotten lost in some liminal space instead. Taco was surprised that this hotel cost only one million dollars to build— surely OJ must be suffering from crippling debt to keep it up and running. 

And yet, there was nothing in it's walls that suggested lack of funding. No spider-webbing cracks in the windows, nor black mold creeping in the corners of the walls. The paint wasn’t peeling, not even chipping could be found. Warm, centralized air thrummed through the ceilings, blowing in through clean grates and making Taco feel a bit less cold as her soaked shoes squelched against the carpet. 

She hadn’t even realized she’d stopped walking until she found herself turning in a circle, taking the hotel in. Hotel OJ was nothing like any of the sketchy motels she’d stayed in throughout her life. The little, hidden corners of the world where she would just make do. No, compared to those dumps, Hotel OJ was like a castle. A luxury resort. It…it was…

A place she didn’t belong.

The realization came crashing down on her, making her throat seize up and her heart rate spike. The orange walls towered over her short figure. Her muddy shoes sank into the carpet, as if she were to fall through. 

She dredged up her foot and took a step backwards, then another, and another, away from the towering walls, until her back hit something solid. She whirled around, heart in her throat, and caught sight of her bowtie in the window she had run into.

The InvisaBow on her neck glitched, and her body shivered with rematerialization. God, she was filthy. Soaked to the bone with rain, white shirt stained brown with mud, sweat, and blood. Her once clean-ish cut hair was tangled in with her bow, the greasy strands much longer than the bob she remembered it being. Her right eye thrummed with pain, the scratches and bruising swelling into an ugly purple-red. Beyond that, she looked exhausted. Eyebags sagging from lack of sleep, cheekbones much more prominent than she remembered them being, wrinkles lining her face, lips chapped and cracking, skin freckled from sun exposure. 

Ugly, was the first word that came to mind. Vulnerable was the second. Pathetic was the third.

Terror shot through her veins at the thought of somebody seeing her like this. Seeing her so pathetic. 

Taco’s head spun, and she coughed wetly when she attempted to breathe in deeply. She jammed her hand into the InvisiBow again, returning to invisibility, and fled down the hallway at the sound of approaching people. 

People.

People lived in this Hotel. People who didn’t like her, who probably wished she was better off dead. Who would kick her repulsive face back out into the pouring rain if they caught sight of her in their wondrous, royal, luxurious home. 

Taco couldn’t face them. 

So she ran. She ran and ran, like she so often did. Heaving and suppressing her coughs, she ran. She had been so focused on getting somewhere warm and dry, she hadn’t even thought about what she would do if everything went wrong. 

What would happen when MePad woke up? Would he sell her out? He had no reason to, unless-

Unless he realized she had used him. Like she had with every other person who had the misfortune of trusting her.

She should have built up a sturdier relationship first, or explained her plan as a benefit to him, or even admitted she was scared when he suddenly blacked out. But instead, she had cut corners. Rushed plans. Not thought things through.

Mic was wrong. She wasn’t changing. She wasn’t capable of it.

In the midst of her turmoil, she slammed into a door labeled “DO NOT OPEN!” Immediately, she tugged on it. At the slightest hint of give, she dove inside and shut it behind her, collapsing against a supply shelf. Her lungs stuttered, and her hands touched a suspiciously slimy substance. But she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

It was quiet. It was dark. It was slightly damp, and it was stuffy. It was nothing like what she was used to, and nothing like what she was hoping for.

But it worked. She would have to make do for now.

~

MePad couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t used to this comfortable bed, the downy pillows and the soft quilt. Granted, he normally slept on a hard, metal charging platform right beside MePhone, so anything that normal people would deem “comfortable” would not apply to him. He was not human, after all. He had no pain receptors in his metal body.

OJ had told him to “get some rest”, but all MePad could think of was the empty, clean bed on the other side of the spare room he had been lent. One that Taco should really be sleeping in, because Taco was a human. She had a toughened body yet a weakened immune system. She would benefit greatly from being warm, dry, and cozy, and MePad would not. 

The robot sighed, sitting up mechanically in bed. He neatly laid back the quilt before standing up, dressing in a robe —orange colored, because of course it was,— before walking to the door and grabbing the handle. 

He was going to find Ta-

“Ah!”

He blinked in surprise. Microphone stood in front of him squinting her eyes at the brightness of his LED eyes and mouth. She was standing surprisingly close to his door, bleary-eyed and dressed in a grey sweatshirt and pink sleep pants. 

“Y-you’re so bright…” The girl mumbled.

“Apologies. I did not expect someone to-“

“Shhh!” Microphone pressed her finger to his screen-mouth, although that would not work on an android like him. “Can't you speak quieter too?!”

MePad nodded. He closed his eyes, visualizing the dials for both his brightness and volume. When he opened his eyes again, Microphone was no longer squinting in his face.

“Apologies, again.” MePad said, much quieter. “How may I help you, at this time of night, Microphone?”

“Well-“ She shifted on her feet, nervous. MePad stepped aside in the doorway, welcoming her into the borrowed room, and she ducked inside with gratitude. Once the door shut, she got straight to the point.

“Taco.” She said, unreadable emotion on her face. “Where is she?”

“I'm afraid I do not know.” MePad sighed. He watched from his standing place as Microphone moved to sit on the bed opposite him. “I had thought that she was here, in Hotel OJ, however I was unable to spot her once I awoke. I have vague memories of teleporting us near the hotel, yet everything after I have failed to recall.”

Mic sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. Despite their rocky relationship and sudden falling out, MePad could see the concern etched into Microphone’s face. She was worried for her friend. It was kind of her to continue to care for Taco, even after recognizing all the hurt and manipulation the girl had put her through. 

“You are worried for her.” MePad pointed out as such. Microphone’s back went rigid at the words. “That is kind of you.”

“W-whaaaat? No, I…” Microphone trailed off, and her cheeks flushed red. “I'm- I’m worried about what she might do in the hotel! I mean, OJ will be furious if he finds out she snuck in. Pickle, too. And, uh…”

MePad hesitated.

“You are not worried for her wellbeing?” An edge of protectiveness tinged his tone, a sharp warning.

“No, no! I didn't mean that, I-I am!” Microphone sat up straight again, and MePad was even more confused at her reaction. “I just…its complicated. Complicated feelings-y stuff. Y’know?”

“No. Not really.” MePad shook his head, and Mic sighed.

“Ah. Robot. I forgot.”

They lapsed into a tense silence, and MePad’s gaze was drawn towards the door again. He couldn't waste any more time than he already had.

“Well, I was just about to look around and search for her.” He looked back over to Microphone, hand outstretched. “Would you care to join me?”

~

After what felt like hours, perhaps even days, Taco got her breathing back under control. Her brain had stopped somersaulting, and the walls had gone back to being just, well, walls. The darkness of the storage closet she had stuffed herself in helped, --she supposed that the bright lights had disoriented her poor vision-- but the disgusting, half-dried goo that coated the shelving units inside was not doing her any favors. If anything, she had felt even more sick now than she was before, as if that could even be possible.

But it was whatever, she could make do, so she had no reason to leave-

Knock knock knock. 

Taco tensed up, staring at the door in front of her. No, it couldn't have been for her. Perhaps a tenant room beside the closet-?

Knock knock knock.

She stayed silent, finger hovering over the InvisaBow on her neck. Perhaps it was MePad. But if it wasn't, it could be Microphone, or OJ, or Pickle, and she did not want to take her chances with them yet

“Hey…um, Taco?” 

The helium-high-pitched voice behind the door startled her, her brow scrunching up as she began to think that maybe Suitcase was not the only one experiencing hallucinations. 

“So, uh, I know you’re in here. I think. Uh, there was a trail of wet footprints, so I guess I assumed it was you-” Damn her un-waterproofed boots, foiling her plans again… “-but, whatever. If you’re in there, hi! It's um, it's Balloon.”

Balloon? What would Balloon want with her? She knew him, of course, they had done Season 1 together years ago. But nowadays, she barely knew the guy. Much less had a vendetta against him, but-

“I just wanted to help someone who, I thought deserved…another chance.” Suitcase’s words rang in her mind. 

Yes. Another chance. 

I see.

“Well, whether or not you want to talk or not, that's okay. I'm used to talking to myself, so uh, I guess I’ll just go on and monologue, or something!” He slid down against the door, and Taco found herself moving closer to the door to hear him better.

“Um…so I won't ask how you’ve been doing, since it's probably been not-so-great. Heheh, believe me I understand.” He sighed. “I'm sure you remember how I acted way back then, in Season 1? A huge jerk, yeah. Not the greatest person, I’ll admit. And, um, it wasn't fun, believe it or not, being a not-great person. Of course, I didn't realize that at the time. It wasn't until when the season ended that I realized that I was alone.”

Taco sighed, leaning her head against the door. If it were any other night, one in which she was dry, rested, and not feeling like utter crap, then she would have probably fired back with a defensive rant. 

“You probably won't believe it, but…well, it's hard for me to talk about, and I still kind of hold a grudge against OJ for this, but…it was raining, too, on the night I came back to ask for forgiveness. It was cold and wet, and I thought I’d get hypothermia or frostbite if I stayed outside for much longer. So I tried, wrote a whole long apology note and everything. All that got was my butt kicked back to the curb. But hey! At least he gave me a sweet, orange umbrella, right!?” Sarcasm was ripe in his voice, and Taco found herself rolling her eyes at the tone. Balloon huffed, as if sensing her gesture. 

“Honestly, I didn't even notice you sneak in here. But it was probably a much better idea than groveling. You were always the clever, quick-thinking type. Me? I was just a meaner version of Knife.”

“Oh, please.” Taco found herself mumbling. Her voice was shot, thick with a cough, and she cleared her throat. “No one can be more brutish than that ironically-dull kitchen appliance.”

“So you can talk!” Balloon laughed from behind the door. “Ah, I forgot you turned British.”

Taco laughed, wheezing a little bit, but a laugh nonetheless. “I was always British, I'm just a very good actor.”

“Sure, sure.” Balloon said sarcastically again. They went quiet, and Taco sensed Balloon had something to say. But before he could speak, she cut him off. 

“I appreciate your words of comfort, but I'm afraid our situations aren't so similar anymore.” She looked down to her black-gloved hands, ripped at some seams and still damp with rainwater. “Gods know how, but you got Suitcase on your side, and managed to complete a nice little redemption arc. Me? I can’t say I’ve even started one.”

“Really?” Balloon hummed. “Well, Lightbulb told me she thinks you’re getting there, slowly but surely. Don’t know how true that is, but what I do know is that turning over a new leaf is always easier with a friend by your side.”

Taco scoffed. “But I don’t-”

“Balloon? What are you doing, sitting in front of the storage closet?”

Taco’s eyes widened, and she scrambled to her feet. She stared at the door, straining her ears to hear that voice again.

“You don’t have any friends, you say?” Balloon said, a smirk evident in his voice. 

Taco pushed the door open, accidentally slamming Balloon in the face; but she couldn't care less. A relieved grin stretched across her face.

“MePad!”

~

MePad’s eyes flickered brightly as Taco’s lithe body barreled into him. That was sure to leave a bruise on her skin, but considering how she was hugging him with all of her strength, she didn’t care, and MePad wasn’t about to spoil the moment. He wrapped his arms around her back, feeling relief melt off him in waves. For something who claimed not to feel emotion, he certainly was getting a little soft. 

Taco’s own relief was short lived, however, as when she opened her eyes again she was met with a few people staring at her. Microphone, of course, was looking at her with concern in her dark eyes. OJ was behind her, arms crossed and clearly only begrudging her presence in his hotel. Balloon had emerged from behind the door, rubbing his red cheek, looked less than happy about being slammed in the face, but still held a small look of pride. 

They were staring at her, waiting for her to…speak. Do anything at all. So, Taco pushed MePad away, cleared her throat and fought the urge to look away. Instead, she stared them all right in their eyes. 

Alright, Taco. Say something, she thought to herself. Speak your lies, and manipulate them into letting you stay. Or at least, to not say anything. Blame it on MePad, he surely wouldn't mind. Yes! MePad teleported us here and- and I had no say. Perfect.

Mind made up, Taco opened her mouth to explain…only for her lungs to seize up and a fit of wet coughing to wrack her body. 

How embarrassing…

MePad made a distressed beep! at her sickness, trying to pat her back like she was a choking baby (which she wasn’t, thank you very much). Even still, she kept her head held high and her back straight and attempted to smoothen out her wrinkled shirt. She had class, elegance, and a simple cold wouldn't stop her from appearing her usual posh self.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Taco raspily muttered, waving MePad’s concerned arms away from her. She coughed into her fist once more before facing the dumbfounded group. “Honestly, OJ, you should up the security on this fancy little hotel you have here. You’d be surprised-” “Taco.” Microphone strode up to her, arms crossed and face scrutinizing. Taco swallowed discreetly, but still stood her ground against her former friend. Even if sweat dripped down the back of her neck, and her cold fingers began to tremble. The taller girl stopped in front of her, her face hesitant as she stared Taco down. 

“M…Microphone, I-”

“Shut up.” Microphone said quietly. Taco blinked, a little surprised.

“But I-”

“Just- just shut up.” She was still keeping her distance from Taco, and yet she looked…worried. 

Worried for Taco, of all people. The way she stared into her eyes was stifling with hatred, and yet softened with concern. Taco…didn't know what to say to make this better. 

The air was thick, as if Microphone had something more to say but she couldn't get it out.  

“OJ, do we have any more dry towels? Or spare clothes? And is the fire still going?”

OJ looked at Mic with a small smile on his face. “Who do you take me for?” He looked back at Taco, the corners of his mouth only twitching just slightly.

“Listen, we can work this out later.” OJ said to her, turning to the stairs. He paused, giving her a once-over again, and sighed. “Once you don't look like you’re about to keel over with a flu.”

“I am not-!” 

“According to my health sensors, your body temperature is higher than average, and you are at risk of suffering from exhaustion and hypothermia. I strongly encourage you to sit by the fire, even for an hour or two, Taco.” MePad said, concern replacing his apathetic tone of voice. 

“Trust me, you do not want to develop pneumonia.” Balloon, emerging from behind MePad, shuddered.

“Please, Taco, just this once?” Microphone was practically begging her. Huh, strange, she was acting as if they were still friends…

“Alright, alright, alright!” She pressed a hand to her temples to soothe a developing headache. “All of you, quit your yakking. I’m…I’m coming.” 

Microphone smiled, the tension in her face melting into relief. Hesitant, she extended her hand to Taco. 

Hopeful to begin again, Taco took it. 

“Achoo!”

Swaddled in towels and blanket so much that she resembled a burrito, Taco warmed herself by the fire. She leaned against Mic, who, despite obviously still uneasy about Taco’s presence, had a comforting arm around her as she huddled near the fire. MePad was humming quietly, fans running to keep him from overheating. Taco closed her eyes, ready to give in and fall into a deep sleep that would surely cure her of whatever illness she had developed, when she was stirred awake by heavy footsteps. 

A teacup clinked down beside her, on a plain white saucer. It smelled of lemons and ginger, and was still lightly steaming. The warm ceramic chased the damp chill away from her fingertips, and she breathed in the calming aroma as best she could through her stuffy nose. 

“Thank you.” She muttered, looking up at the person who had handed her the cup; only to find him part-way up the stairs. He stopped and looked back, and Taco’s eyes widened. 

There was something in Pickle’s stony look that proved he was not one to forgive as quickly as Microphone. And yet, he had still brewed her a cup of her favorite tea, and (even if begrudgingly) accepted her into his home.

He simply gave her a subtle nod, and continued on his way. Taco took a sip of the warm drink and smiled.

[jxngs]

FUUBUTSUSHI | 風物詩 — 1

· . ༄࿔ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Snow whispers softly, Blind eyes in winter's embrace, Curse king's frozen game.

⤿ or in which a blind girl is forced to play shogi with the king of curses.

Sukuna / Ryomen Sukuna | Original Female Character(s)

Tags: Slow Burn × Size Difference × Heian Period × Romance × Violence × Enemies to Lovers × kind of lol × Canon-Typical Violence × Betrayal × Disabled Character

[Ch.2] | [AO3]

It was cold.

The biting cold wrapped around everything, coating it with a crisp layer that crunched beneath every footstep. It was harsh and relentless; it seeped into everyone's bones and left no one behind. The poor village lacked resources. It lacked the ability to offer its inhabitants warm fabrics that gave a sense of security and comfort. And despite the sun lazily casting warmth over them through the layers of the cold, it wasn't enough. How could it be enough when the frigid air lingered? Lingered in the air, and lingered in their bones. Every time it snapped and turned, the smell of snow and pine stung in their frozen noses. 

And despite the harsh winter and its dead flora, soft laughter came from a distance. The ground rang with small vibrations, echoing the familiar sound of snow being crunched. A young mother was out, yelling at the children to come inside before the weather made them sick. Her voice was full of worry, yet a hint of amusement laced underneath it all.

"But mooom!!"

"No! I'm not hearing anything, so get in!"

With a groan and a grumble, the vibrations through the ground come to a stop.

A blanket of silence hangs over Yukimori—a village that was a week's worth away from Heian-kyō¹, the capital city. A gentle whisper oozes from the bare branches of trees surrounding the village, brushing against their ears. Birds chirp sparingly, their calls muted by the cold, while the soft swish of snow being gently blown from branches kisses their ears once more.

Winter's solstice was coming.

The trees spoke again, moving and dancing with the breeze.

Warning them.

Winter's solstice was coming.

Winter's solstice was coming.

Winter's solstice was...

Screams began to fill the place. Breaking the silence she found solace in. Hushing the rustling trees. Breaking the snow underneath. Hushing... People were screaming.

Her ears picked up on the sounds, as she struggled to grab her cane that she had forgotten about. It was coming from everywhere; the screams. The woman from earlier was sobbing and yelling, panic and fear coursing through her voice. The kids were quiet this time. They were always noisy. Joyful and happy to live. Her wailing bounced off the walls, and the earth shook with vibrations she had never felt before. The smell— God, the smell! Nature no longer flooded her nose. Acrid and metallic. It was all that she could smell.

Emotions flooded her, becoming too much to bear. Her senses were overloaded to compensate for her loss of vision and loss of knowledge. She couldn't understand what was happening. All that was on her mind was finding her walking cane and seeking her dad. 

Where is her dad? 

Her hands were pressed against the tatami mats, and she crawled around to find it. Tears soaked her fabric, overstimulating her senses even more. She crawled and cried. She crawled and cried till her knees burned and her sniffs added to the symphony of screams. Just anything. Let her grab anything to guide herself with. Her knees wobbled with every movement, feet shuffling, and hands stretched outwards.

Where is her dad?

The metallic smell was spreading everywhere, as panic and fear hung and settled in the air. Her heart was thumping loudly against her ribcage; it felt as if it were starting to beat in her ears too. It caused her body to tremble, walking around blindly. She was so shaken that she couldn't focus on a single sense. They were too overstimulated to the point that her body started to shut them out one by one. Her hearing was growing dull, and she couldn't smell anymore. Her instincts were kicking in: find your dad! Her brain was screaming at her to do anything to survive.

"Dad? Where are you?" she called out, shuffling near one of the walls. 

Her body kept bumping into random corners, but she couldn't pay any attention to the sharp pain and forming bruises. Despite knowing the layout of the house, she never knew how to get around that well without her white cane. Her disability made it too hard for her to do most things. Going outside was too dangerous. Cooking led to her getting burned and cut up. Sewing pricked her fingers too much. Hah, she couldn't even read or write! Without her only parent, she was as useful as a vegetable.

The more she walked around in the burning hot house, the more loathsome her thoughts were becoming. Why couldn't I just be born normal? 

At some point, she tripped over something, and she landed on her hands to protect herself from the fall. Her tears were starting to soak the thin fabric that covered her eyes. Trembling and panicking. Full of hatred. Self-loathing resentment.

It's not like she had any friends or proper connections that she'd remember in her last moments. She was alone her whole life. Not only was she blind, but apparently, she looked like a freak too! The poor girl never saw colors to understand their fuss over her appearance, and oftentimes, their comments would leave a bitter taste in her mouth. So ungrateful for being able to see in the first place.

Perhaps whatever was happening would get her out of the prison that was her body.

"—Up! It's your dad!!" 

Snapping her head to wherever the direction of the familiar sound came from, she started to shake again. Her hands ripped the blindfold off her eyes from how uncomfortably wet they were becoming. Her senses became so dull that she didn't realize her father's embrace until he shook her. The look in her eyes was so distant and fear-stricken, and it made her dad shake her more.

"—ina, I'm here [...]"

"Calm down, o—?"

"Breathe."

"In and [...]"

"—ut"

"Breathe."

Breathe.

With her nails sunken into her dad's clothes, her senses began to slowly come back to her. The crisp breeze of winter was washing away that putrid metallic smell. She no longer felt as if she were ten minutes away from her skin blistering and melting off. She could feel her hair sticking to her forehead from the sweat. Her cheeks were stained with fresh tears. People weren't screaming. It was eerily quiet.

"W-What happened...?" she finally asked once she had calmed down.

"There was an attack on our village, but..." Her dad trailed off before continuing, "a kind King was nearby and helped us out."

"Really? That's... that's so nice of him."

"Mhm, but he asked for one thing in return for their favor."

Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion when she asked, "What was it? I hope our people are willing to do that since he saved us."

"My sweet, kind daughter," he cradled her face in his palms, caressing her cheek with one calloused thumb. "When he heard of you being a shogi master, all he asked for was to play with you until he won at least once."

The blind female only excelled at one thing: Heian shogi². It was as if the stars blessed her with one thing despite all her struggles. She has been challenging older masters with more experience since she was young, and her winning streak has been impressive. Usually, their egos would make them challenge her and wager on something, undermining her disability. Who would expect such a young, naïve girl to be good at such a game? It grated on their pride to know of such an opponent who had no losses under her belt.

It wasn't surprising to hear of the King's request; she always had people ask her for a match. She was more than willing to grant him his request.

"If that's the cost of saving us, you know I wouldn't mind, Father."

Her dad only pulled her into another warm, tight embrace.

"Oh, I'm so glad that you're still alive."

-

The young woman sat down patiently, not moving an inch while her dad neatly wrapped a fabric around her eyes. She was dressed in a white kimono with a light blue snowflake pattern and a matching blue obi, according to her father. Despite being of nobility, the village was too poor for her family to spend money on a jūnihitoe³. The clothes she was wearing were the best she had, and they felt silky and smooth enough to be appropriate. She was preparing to see a King of a town nearby, so of course, she had to pay attention to what she was wearing.

Her long hair fell all the way down to the ground after she gently brushed it out. Her father took out her favorite hair clip and pinned some strands to the back of her head. Finally, she slipped on her tabi socks and grabbed her cane from next to her.

Walking gently around the house, her arm was interlinked with her dad's. She slipped on her geta sandals before they left. It was still very cold, but the sharp smell of pinewood bit at her nose, making her visibly relax. Snow crunched under her feet with every step. The sound of her tapping was muffled by it. They reached a point where she could hear the sound of wood burning and crackling, seeping its smoky smell into the air.

When they reached the horse, he helped her get up on it before settling in front of her. Her hands gently held onto his clothes, and with that, they embarked on a days-long journey to the King's estate.

They took a couple of breaks here and there to eat food. It wasn't that tiring for her considering how it was her favorite season, and she got to happily spend time outside without worrying about getting hurt. At some point, she fell asleep while hugging her dad from behind, her cheek pressed against his back.

By the time she woke up, she could tell that they were on an area that wasn't covered with snow. The gentle rustle of a horse's movement was accompanied by a rhythmic, muffled squelch, which was telling of wet soil being stepped on. Her hair swayed with every step until it slowed down to a stop.

"We're here, my dear."

Her dad's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she muttered an "okay." He helped her get off and handed her her cane. She gently held it with her right hand; her left arm hung on his elbow. 

TapTapTapTap

Her kimono moved with every step, as she was being guided by her father to the entrance of the estate. From what she imagined, it seemed to be big. The wooden floors didn't make sounds much like her house, and there were so many stairs she had to climb. The smell of incense wafted through her nose—smoky and inviting. 

Was the King that rich...?

She had visited a lot of rich people before, but their houses never felt as big as this one. She was only at the entrance so far!

Knock

Knock

She shuffled on her feet until she heard the wooden door open with a faint creak from the hinges, a soft, drawn-out groan resonating through the wood.

"We've been expecting you." The person greeted them, swinging the door open. "I'm Uraume, and I'll be guiding her to the King from here on."

She turned around to smile at her dad to bid him farewell. He gave her a tight hug, whispering to her how she should take care of herself and focus on winning. They eventually pulled away, and he started to walk away. The sounds of his footsteps grew quieter and quieter with each step.

Turning to look straight ahead, where she guessed Uraume to be, she gave them a gentle smile and said, "I'll be in your care."

The young shogi master walked through the long, endless corridors while Uraume held onto her arm and guided her. They didn't speak much, and she was too focused on taking in her surroundings. The wooden floors were cooler beneath her sock-clad feet, and as she moved, the soft creaking of the estate's wooden structure blended with the faint whisper of the wind seeping through tiny gaps in the architecture.

TapTapTapTap

It felt oddly serene and pleasant. The sounds and smells were inviting, and in her mind, it was fitting for a King like that. He was kind to grace their village from perishing. It made her excited to play with him, as she mentally hoped that he wouldn't be like most of her male opponents.

When they got deeper into the estate, the floors felt warmer, and the cold winds weren't sneaking into the air. There was a distant smell of wood burning, and it made it all too comfortable and cozy for her. They were finally reaching where she was going to meet the King.

The estate was definitely too big for her to memorize. Not unless she stayed there for months. It felt as if she were in a maze, and at some point, she gave up on trying to understand the directions they were walking in.

TapTap

Tap

They stood in front of a sliding door which Uraume knocked on three times at first. There was silence in return, yet they slid the door open. A faint smell of cooked meat and tea tickled her nose, and she was led inside. When Uraume tugged on her a bit, she went down on her knees in a seiza position. She placed her hands on the floor and bowed down until her forehead nearly touched the floor. After staying there for a few seconds, she raised back up. 

Uraume tugged on her again, indicating that the King had silently motioned for her to come and sit. She took her cane and was guided until she stood in front of the King, a shogi board between them. She sat back down in the same position, placing her cane to the side. Her hands were folded on top of her lap, and she gently smiled at him.

"It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty." She greeted him, her voice gentle.

It was quiet, and she couldn't tell what the King was thinking about. Her lack of vision made her unable to read into her surroundings, let alone people. Fortunately for her, it felt comfortable to sit in silence with him. She didn't feel pressured to say anything else, nor did she feel awkward and squirm around in her seat. It's been... a long time since she felt this relaxed in someone's presence.

Suddenly, she heard one of the pieces move and be placed on another tile. Her head tilted down as if she were looking at it, her mind deep in thought. Usually, her opponents told her their moves, but she, somehow, got a general idea of what they would be. Anytime she was in front of a board, it felt as if she could sense its energy buzzing in her mind.

In her imaginative eye, the shape of the board was glowing, and the pieces were in different intensities of glow. Anytime a piece moved, it would move in her head, too.

Her slender hand reached out to pick up a piece and placed it down, mimicking his move.

"P-5d."⁴

Since her opponent was someone she had never played against, she decided it would be better to do a basic move first. It'd be interesting to see what kind of player the King was. She never had a set playstyle; she always adapted to her opponent. Adopt their moves and become even better.

Snap!

Another piece had moved in her mind's eye. 'P-7f'

The pawn on one end of the board was moved forward two spaces.

"P-3d."

She did the same on the other side.

Snap!

The King moved his Silver General diagonally. 'S-4h'

Her hands quickly moved to pick up her Silver piece. "S-4b."

The King was obviously trying to gauge her skill too. So far, all their movements weren't offensive or straight to the point. The two were being tactful with each other, and it was obvious. It was rare for her to have an opponent who tried to get a read on her. Their egotistical personalities made them attack her pieces right from the start to dominate the game.

They continued to play. Sounds of the pieces being placed down and her stating her moves filled the room. She had a small smile on her face as they played. It felt so refreshing and nice to have someone take her seriously. She never expected herself to have so much fun. A part of her was worried that she'd be stuck with someone cruel till they got bored of her winning streak. But no, the King of her was kind.

"Thank you," she spoke up after stating her move, 'Nx3e', "for saving my village, Your Majesty."

"..."

He remained silent. She didn't even question it. She only gave him her sincerest smile, her hands folded on her lap. To her, it seemed as if he wasn't able to figure out what move to make next, yet she sat. She sat there patiently with her head tilted towards him rather than the board. It seemed as if she was staring at him, reading into him, but they both knew that she was blind. He verified it earlier.

Even if he sat there, thinking for the rest of the day, she wasn't going to urge him to make any move. King or not, she was simply not the type. Her patience was that of a saint, according to her father.

The glow in her mind shifted to show that one of her pieces had been swiped away. 

"I don't think cheating is allowed, Your Majesty." She giggled.

Silence.

Snap.

Her white piece was back in place now. 

The King was silent again for a moment before he moved a black piece.

"S-4f."

That caught her off guard for a second; it was the first time he had said anything since she had entered the room. 

His voice was a deep, resonant timbre, and it grazed her ears smoothly with a tinge of sharpness. It was... fitting for a King. No wonder why his place is so huge; he sounded like a strong King who had a very commanding aura to him.

"S-4c." Her movements were free of hesitation, as if she had already predicted his move long ago. 

"S-4g."

"P-5e." She retracted her hand into her lap, and she tilted her head back up to look at him. "I haven't had this much fun playing in a while!"

Her voice was higher and more feminine in comparison. It sounded dreamy with childlike wonder and excitement. It was fitting for a blind woman who was naive to her surroundings. Naive to the man sitting in front of her.

His gaze was dark and calculating, his red eyes raking over the woman in front of him. She smiled at him like his presence and cursed energy didn't suffocate everyone else in the temple. Like he wasn't the one who tried to annihilate her village. Like he didn't bare his claws at her neck moments after she stepped in. He couldn't tell if it was because of her disability or because of her gullibility. 

Her long, white hair flowed down her back and onto the floor, while her bangs and side pieces framed her porcelain white face. A tinge of pink covered her cheeks and the tip of her nose from the cold weather, and half of her face was covered with a thin, white fabric.

It felt as if she were a beacon of light in the darkness of his estate—an angelic being visiting. It infuriated him. It disgusted him how she looked so otherworldly, like she had never experienced any sin. Never experienced any of the hatred and anger he felt toward humanity.

If it wasn't for the vow he made with her father, he would've sliced her head off the second she stepped in. Sukuna never expected a blind woman to be this good at some board game. When her father first talked of his offer, he cackled. He cackled and laughed at how absurd it was. It was so amusing to him that he decided to entertain himself; his daughter was going to die today. In this room. Without knowing that her dad set her up for her death.

Yet, with how it was going, he was not going to win the first match.

Her existence was an anomaly for him.

She had zero cursed energy. He couldn't detect her presence till she was in his room. Every human he met, sorcerer or not, had some amount of it in them, yet the girl in white didn't have any.

Even her physical presence was meek and quiet, not demanding anything. Even when he took long to play his turn on purpose, she sat there patiently. Hands folded on her lap, and a soft, upward tug on her lips. 

That was without mentioning her weird ability to know that he took one of her pieces earlier. How could she be blind to everything but the board in front of them?

"+P-5g."

Her soft voice grated on his ears and snapped him out of his thoughts.

She had won.

"I'm sure you'll win next time." She gently encouraged him while picking up all the pieces in one hand. Her tone was free of bragging and condescension. She spoke to him like a mother would cheer up her son after losing. Sincere and... caring.

He hated it.

He hated her.

"How can you play this game when you're blind?" Sukuna asked her, an amused smirk resting on his face.

"O-oh!" she was surprised by the sudden question. "I don't know how to explain it... I can kind of see the board in my mind."

The woman proceeded to tap on the side of her head. She tried to think of how to answer his question. It was rare that people would be curious about her ability; they were often bridled with rage when they'd lose.

"Every time I play a move, I can see all possible combinations to any move my opponent can do to mine. It just flows in my mind, and I can't control it. Every combination is stored, too. Even if I last saw it years ago."

Her explanation had him humming in thought, trying to think of how that was possible. Could it be a Heavenly Restriction?

"You mean that you remember all the moves we did in this game too?" he asked her.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Interesting.

She seemed to be unaware of how that worked or why it did. That doesn't mean that he can't beat her. Sukuna knew that there had to be a way to get around her skills at this game. Eventually, he will find said way to win, and he'll be able to get rid of her at once. 

The two started another match, and she was the first to start. Her move wasn't a basic one like earlier; she had already gotten somewhat of a read on his playstyle. In order to win, she had to think in his way to be able to predict his most probable move after hers. 

So far, she had been moving in a certain rhythm—moving her pieces seconds after him. She looked at him and the board as if she could read their souls bare. Telling her what she needs to do to maintain her pace. All Sukuna had to do was disrupt her pace. He played the same way he did earlier, leaving two of his strong pieces around his King and attacking her with the rest.

However, when she was nearing his King, he suddenly moved his knight and placed it in an unexpected position.

"N-7g."

She froze in her place, her hands tensed up. He didn't have to see her eyes to know that he had caught her off guard. It was visible from the way her gaze was directed towards the board, and her hands were stuck in place.

'You'll be a nice dinner to have today.' He cackled in his mind while he leaned in closer in anticipation. His eyes were wide open, staring at her intently to watch her reach her death at her own hands.

His gaze dropped down to her moving hand, and he grinned widely. She was going to fall into his trap; he was going to win when she'd least expect it.

"+N-6i." She placed her promoted knight down.

He lost.

Again.

His grin transformed into a quiet sneer. He gritted his teeth and glared at the board. How... how did she manage to do that? 

"That's a checkmate." He finally said.

Sukuna began to pick up the pieces instead, his mind running a thousand miles per hour. It annoyed him to realize that he hadn't noticed her promoted piece earlier on. He was so focused on almost winning that he forgot about his most vital piece. His own King.

"Why did you hesitate?" he asked her, his voice not betraying the anger that bubbled in him. 

Snap! Snap! Snap!

He placed the pieces down to rearrange them.

She lifted her head to look at him, and she smiled sweetly like she wasn't the one who tricked him. 

"Because the sequence you did was something I had done before." She began to explain calmly. "Then I had an opponent do it to me before, so I had to find out halfway and change up my strategy without him noticing."

She gripped her kimono and glanced down at the board with a fond look. "It was like reliving that moment again. That's... That's why I hesitated."

Sukuna couldn't stop himself from chuckling at her words. For such a dumb, innocent girl, she played him without him noticing. It was starting to drive him insane; he had to win no matter what. Even if it took up all his time, he was determined to win. All just to fulfill the vow and kill her and her annoying village people. It was them who sent her his way. Who forced her into his sacred place. The second he won, he was going to relish in murdering her and the rest. He'd hang up their heads and organs to warn people to never mess with him again.

And so, they played.

They played and played till night rolled in, and it was nothing but a losing streak for him. Sukuna was visibly looking at her with unbearable bloodlust, yet she still continued to look at him like he was a Saint who saved her people. She treated him with a softness he had never experienced before, and it set him off. He never allowed someone to treat him like that. Matter of fact, no one ever did. He didn't need some weak, pathetic human emotions displayed towards him.

She even had the guts to explain to him what moves he could possibly do when he was actually struggling on what to do. Sukuna thought his options were limited, but hearing her tell him about all the combinations while pointing at the pieces with her index finger opened his eyes to possibilities he had overlooked. The worst part of it all was how genuine she sounded. She was so happy and excited to tell him.

She was truly the weirdest person he had ever met in all the years he had lived.

Sukuna knew that she hadn't gotten to rest properly in over twenty-four hours. They started playing the second she had arrived. However, she didn't show a hint of exhaustion. She didn't ask him to stop out of hunger or tiredness. Instead, she played with him to his heart's content. If it was anyone else forced to be in her position, they'd show it with their body language.

She was just...

He didn't even know how to describe her anymore. It really threw him for a loop.

His gaze lingered on her for a second, and then he said, "What's your name?"

Her lips tugged upward at his question.

"My name is Yukina, Your Majesty."

"Call me King Sukuna."

Yukina was pleased to hear his name, and she gave him a small nod and said, "Yes, King Sukuna."

So docile.

Sukuna leaned back in his place while trying to study her features. Yukina was completely oblivious to everything around her. To him. To how he stared at her intently like she was his prey. It was starting to become entertaining to him by now. He was going to shatter her innocence and expose her father's betrayal to her eventually. He would let her know that it was him, the King of Curses, who set her place on fire and killed a good part of her population.

And he was going to love every second of it.

Notes:

✧ Fuubutsushi: the things—feelings, scents, images—that evoke emories or anticipation of a particular season for a poet.

¹. Heian-kyō: Heian-kyō was one of several former names for the city now known as Kyoto. Emperor Kanmu established it as the capital in 794, moving the Imperial Court there from nearby Nagaoka-kyō and marking the beginning of the Heian period of Japanese history.

². Heian shogi: Heian shōgi is a predecessor of modern shogi. Unfortunately, there is not enough information to actually play the game.

³. Jūnihitoe: The jūnihitoe is a style of formal court dress first worn in the Heian period by noble women and ladies-in-waiting at the Japanese Imperial Court. The jūnihitoe was composed of a number of kimono-like robes, layered on top of each other, with the outer robes cut both larger and thinner to reveal the layered garments underneath.

⁴. P-5d: A typical example is P-8f. The first letter represents the piece moved: P = pawn, L = lance, N = knight, S = silver, G = gold, K = king. Promoted pieces have a + added in front of the letter. e.g., +P for a tokin (promoted pawn). The designation of the piece is followed by a symbol indicating the type of move: - for an ordinary move or x for a capture. For example, Nx7c= indicates a knight capturing on 7c without promoting.

[raythestarghost]

Dissociation, A Kingleader Oneshot

Woah Kinger angst this time

Don't come at me for the unrealistic episode Kinger has, I would write based off experience but I don't remember shit about my dissociation. One second I'm entering school, blurry, them I'm leaving.

Kinger huddled in his pillow fortress, all alone in the dim, hot air. The faint light filtering through the gaps in the pillows in the fort were just enough to pull him out of it.

“Hello there, Kinger!” Caine suddenly appeared and yelled (as quietly as his code would allow him to at such a happy level).

Kinger jumped, but didn't scream. Caine, accustomed to his voice and presence startling Kinger into yelling, was concerned by this.

“Darling? Are.. you alright?” He lowered his voice forcefully.

Kinger sat facing away from him, staring at the floor covered with pillows, eyes full of fear.

Ah, okay.

Caine backed out of the fort, leaping to his feet and quickly scanning the chess pieces' room. Finding a blanket, he draped it over the pillows, hoping to darken the interior. He scurried over to the light dimmer, turning it down as far as he could while still being able to see.

Crawling back into the fort, he positioned himself so he could see his boyfriend's face. He scanned Kinger's empty eyes, searching for any sign of movement.

After a minute, he received no response except a very quiet whine. He would have questioned if Kinger was even alive if not for his physical inability to die here.

“Kinger, it's Caine. We're in our fort right now. Can you move?”

There was no expression change, but he heard another whine. A more distressed one.

Caine reluctantly reached out a hand before pulling back. He didn't know what was happening in Kinger's head, and he didn't want to scare him. He could risk pulling his boyfriend deeper into his dissociated state. It could help, but what if it made it wo-

Another whine broke Caine's train of thought. He would've believed Kinger was crying if it wasn't for the lack of any emotion on his face.

“Okay, I'm… gonna touch you.”

Caine slowly placed his hand on Kinger's, watching and listening for any sign that it was worsening. When he received none, he gently wrapped his arms around the smaller man, hugging him to his chest.

He sat awkwardly for a moment, hoping the physical touch would ground him at least a little.

Kinger lay on Caine’s chest, his hyperventilating slowly lowering to a normal rate.

“Kinger?” Caine forced himself to whisper.

He received yet another sad whimper, but this time it was in response. Caine’s face lit up, but he remained still.

He pressed (the best he could manage, considering their anatomy) a kiss to Kinger’s cheek.

Not receiving a response this time, he spoke up. “It’s Caine. We’re in your fort.”

Kinger finally blinked, looking around for a moment. Caine barely contained his excitement.

“Hi!” He yelled out. Kinger flinched away covering where his ears would be. Caine immediately clasped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.” He whispered.

Kinger didn’t respond, only continuing to scan his surroundings.

"Caine?" He softly spoke up.

"Hi." His lover spoke up softly, forming a gentle smile. "Are.. you okay?"

Kinger looked down at where his hands rested on Caine's chest. “...No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Caine inquired tenderly.

Kinger shook his head, burying his face deeper into Caine’s chest.

“Okay.” Caine responded, understanding without the need for further words. He placed his hand on the back of Kinger’s neck, stroking his thumb along the king’s spine.

They both sat there together for a long time, enveloped in silence, the deep breaths of Caine steadying Kinger.

“H-hey Caine?” Kinger spoke up after a while, not lifting his head.

“Yes, love?” Caine responded.

“Can you like… talk? I just- I'm starting to… do the thing again.” Kinger blinked a few times, trying to stay present.

“Of course. What would you like me to talk about?” Caine placed his hand on Kinger's cheek.

“I don't know. I just need to hear you.” Kinger closed his eyes again, trying to steady his breathing.

“Okay. Well, um, I did some more research on bugs. Did you know butterflies taste with their feet? You probably did. Um, but ladybugs, also referred to as ladybirds, play dead to avoid predators, which is actually quite advanced, considering even domestic dogs have to be taught that. Then again, they're not considered prey… anyways. Fireflies use advanced internal clocks to flash at the same time, and…”

Kinger's eyes slipped shut, his breathing steadying. The only sounds that filled the room were Caine's soft rambles and Kinger's calm breathing.

-----------

Also here's Caines full yap: “Okay. Well, um, I did some more research on bugs. Did you know butterflies taste with their feet? You probably did. Um, but ladybugs, also referred to as ladybirds, play dead to avoid predators, which is actually quite advanced, considering even domestic dogs have to be taught that. Then again, they're not considered prey… anyways. Fireflies use advanced internal clocks to flash at the same time, and catching them and putting them in jars is an activity many humans seem to enjoy. I think it would be fun for an adventure, but it would most likely get quite boring quickly. I also don't think it's morally right, although I don't know too much about morals in the first place, but if I was to make an insect themed adventure, I would probably not include that. I would probably add butterflies, and ladybirds, and grasshoppers, and dragonflies, and- Oh! Did you know dragonflies are some of the best hunters in the natural world? They have almost 360 degree vision, and they can fly super fast! They're really hard to catch! I think that would be a better fit for an insect catching adventure, but I do worry that Jax would harm them. I think that would make you sad. But- we're not talking about sad right now! We're talking about happy! You know, bumblebees can kind of feel happiness, studies suggest they can feel overall positive emotions, which is also very similar to domestic dogs! There are actually lots of similarities between the two species, their muscle and nerve systems are almost identical, and they are both incredible hunters. Bugs tend to hunt better by being hard to notice, but it's difficult for canines to do so, considering their size and natural instincts, so they usually rely on speed. Speaking of speed, dragonflies can fly really fast- wait I already said that. What's your favorite insect? Maybe I could tell you facts about it-” Caine averted his gaze down to where Kinger rested on his chest. The king was breathing soft and slow, and his eyes were closed. Caine stared at him in awe for a few moments before smiling and stroking his cheek. He sat silently with him, admiring the chess pieces' restful face.

[giantbonfirestars]

An Orphaned Brother

Summary: Zane and Jay meet while Zane is being held by The Administration

A/N: This is only a oneshot, so no more, sorry not sorry. Also I haven't seen s2p2 yet so there might be some details I don't know about and therefore did not include. Enjoy!

Zane busily moved about the mail room. He may not have been here by choice, but he would at least make sure he was efficient in the work before he was saved.

He kept glancing at the monitor sitting on the desk, looking for any sign of his friends. He would be able to send them messages using the mail tubes once they were actually here. It was taking some time, but it had also only been a day. Plus the rest of the ninja were already busy with their own missions when he was captured, he had to wait until they returned home and actually knew of his absence.

Zane had just sent off some paperwork to one of the many people working at a desk when he heard footsteps approaching the room. How has he not seen them on the screen? It wasn’t often someone actually came in here, but they usually just ignored him when they did. So long as he was doing his work properly, which he was, they wouldn’t have a need to bother him.

The door opened and Zane tried his best to ignore whoever it was and just continue with his work. There was a beat of silence and someone cleared their throat in the way to show they are trying to another’s attention. Zane stopped what he was doing and turned to the person in the doorway.

The young man standing at the door had curly ginger hair and freckles lightly dotting his cheeks and nose. Zane would recognize him anywhere, this was his teammate, his brother. This was Jay.

The expression he wore wasn’t familiar though. He looked annoyed and almost bored, which wasn’t uncommon, but it was like his spark was gone. Like the thing that made Jay, Jay, was gone.

“The mailing tube in my office isn’t working so I needed to bring this up by hand. Get it to room 5013 please. I would have brought it there myself, but the mail room is much closer, not to mention I have a game- a lot of paperwork to get back to.” Jay explained, holding a stack of papers up for Zane to take.

“Jay?”

The mentioned boy raised an eyebrow at his name. “What authority do you have to address me by my first name?”

“Do you not recognize me?” Zane asked, a feeling of grief clawing at his insides.

“I have never seen you before in my life. I haven’t ever been to mail room before and I would hope you haven’t been out of it either.” Jay sounded annoyed, lowering the stack of papers that Zane had yet to grab from his hands.

“What? Why is that?” Zane hadn’t left the mail room since he got here, it’s true, but the way Jay said it implied something else. Jay didn’t seem to know that he was prisoner, he just thinks that Zane had been here the entire time. He knew this place was strict but did they really not allow people to leave their offices and cubicles. Then again, only people of higher status ever seemed to freely roam the halls and interact with other fields, or at least that’s what he got from viewing the monitor. Jay must be someone important to be able to just walk in here.

Zane was pulled from his thoughts as Jay started talking again, “Because equipment isn’t allowed to leave the area of its purpose. Well, unless we’re destroying it that is, but why would we destroy you? You’ve only been here a day and mail speed and productivity has already increased.”

Zane just stared at the shorter man in front of him, his throat tightening up. Did Jay call him equipment? A thing?

“Although making or purchasing equipment with free will is a little silly if you ask me. Our conversation has been great and all but you still haven’t done what I asked of you.” Jay held up the stack of papers again and Zane warily reached out to take them.

“It is a good thing you aren’t actually sentient, because if this keeps up we might have to destroy you after all.” Jay chuckled quietly at that, but Zane couldn’t find any humor in it. Jay turned to leave and Zane turned to send off the papers. Hesitating as he heard the click of the lock on the door after Jay had closed it.

Jay was just as much a prisoner here as Zane is, only he doesn’t know it.

[will-2-69]

Jenny and The Spider

It has been a long day at work for Jenny. Having to clean up after your butcher shop exploded is not easy.

She was on her way to the store when she saw her. Maxine. That was impossible she died. But there she was walking out of an alley way.

"Jenny," Said what had to be Maxine going towards her. Before Jenny could do anything this giant spider made of dolls popped out and ripped up Maxine.

Jenny was glad that it was dark out so no one else could witness the horror she just had. But she had to admit it was kind of hot to see her stalker ex be ripped to shreds.

The spider turned to her and from what she could tell was staring at her and tilted its head.

"Uh, hi?" Jenny said in disbelief that she actually spoke to the spider.

The spider made noises that she had to guess was a greeting.

"Thanks for beating up my ex by the way. Thought she would be in hell at this point," The spider just gave a nod. "Hey do you want to go somewhere? I was just going to get dinner if you wanted to join me?"

The spider agreed and followed Jenny to the stores where she was to pickup her food order. She took the food and sat down on a bench with the creature across from her.

They aye together and Jenny had to admit it was nice to sit with someone and not have to be forced into conversation. The two sat there for a while till Jenny had to go back home to get some rest.

They walked together till they reach the alley the doll spider popped out of and split ways. Both going home, one to a destroyed building and one to hell. They may not see each other again but neither will forget the night they had together.

@savethedeadboys

[cod-dump]

At the soapghost wedding-

Rudy: Pull yourself together Ale

Alejandro, a sobbing, snotty mess because he’s an absolute SAP: I-I’m Try-Trying

What You Deserve

AleRudy, SoapGhost

(Disclaimer: I don't speak Spanish so I used an online translator. I am sorry if it doesn't come out legible or accidentally summons demons when read out loud)

___

Alejandro hadn’t expected Ghost and Soap to visit the Los Vaqueros base. The pair were glowing when Alejandro and Rudy greeted them. He could feel their joy and excitement.

“My friends! What has you smiling so broadly?”

Ghost, who had an arm on Soap’s shoulders, squeezes them and immediately Soap held up his hand. There, a simple silver band with a gold stripe rested on his ring finger. Alejandro gasped and Rudy grinned. They were getting married. They grabbed they men and smooshed them in a hug, Soap laughing loudly.

It took them a moment to release them, both jittery with excitement and joy, now matching the energy of their friends.

“We didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

“I would’ve killed you if you did!”

They ushered the two off to grab drinks. They had already told Laswell, seeing that they were in the US first to tell her. Then they flew here to tell Alejandro and Rudy.

“You have to stay for dinner!”

Soap looks at Ghost and grins, “Told you they were going to ask.”

Ghost rolls his eyes fondly, “Laswell stuffed us with pie when we saw her.”

“Then we’re going to have to stuff you with birria tacos.”

Soap slaps Ghost chest to prevent him from saying anything, “Oh, we’re staying!”

They ended up going back to their house, Soap deciding to help Rudy in the kitchen while Alejandro and Ghost were banished to the living room. Ghost was bouncing his knee as Alejandro grabbed them beers.

“I can’t believe you’re finally getting married!”

“After carrying the damn ring in my pocket for a year, yea.”

Alejandro laughs, “A year?”

“The most gruesome year of my life.”

Ghost and Alejandro open their beers, Ghost taking a swig. Alejandro could tell he was wanting to say something. The bouncing knee and now him fidgeting with the beer bottle.

“Something on your mind?”

“Yea, I was wanting to ask you something…”

Alejandro tilts his head and Ghost breathes out before looking to him, “Would you be my best man?”

Alejandro, of course, was in mid drink of his beer when he processed the question. He immediately choked on the drink, almost spilling the rest of his beer while trying to blindly put it on the coffee table. Ghost panicked and pat his back to help clear his lungs. After a moment of coughing, Alejandro breathed in.

“You… want me to be your best man?”

“Yes?”

“Me- Simon, I love you. I am honored that you have asked me but- what about John? Kyle? Kate?”

Ghost laughs, “John is more like my father and Kate is unofficially my mother if you haven’t noticed. Not exactly best man material. And Kyle is Johnny’s best man. You should’ve seen the river he cried when Johnny asked him.”

Alejandro stared before he grins. He grabs Ghost and pulls him into a hug. Ghost immediately hugs him back, laughing.

“Is that a yes?”

“You bet your ass it is!”

After a minute Soap yelled from the kitchen, “I’m assuming the coughing and yelling is because Ale is now your best man and not that you killed him!”

Rudy screams, “ALE IS GOING TO BE HIS BEST MAN?!”

After dinner and much talking, Ghost and Soap left even though Alejandro and Rudy insisted they stayed the night. Alejandro was riddled with anticipation, unable to sleep that night. Soon Alejandro was helping get ready for the wedding. He of course made time with Rudy, planning their outfits and shopping for wedding gifts. It was truly one of the happiest they had felt. They had been to weddings before but this one was different. Two of their closest friends were getting married. Two of the bravest men they had the pleasure of knowing.

Two men, like them, never knew if they would ever be able to have this.

Alejandro and Rudy didn’t have an actual ceremony when they had gotten married. They took the quickest route to tie the knot because, at the time, they weren’t sure if they would ever get another chance. Though Rudy has told Alejandro time and time again that not having an actual ceremony didn’t bother him and he was happy, Alejandro felt as though he deprived his husband the wedding he deserved.

The wedding was taking place in Scotland, at a church that was near a cliff overlooking the ocean. This was where Soap’s parents had gotten married. And now it was where Soap would be marrying the love of his life. Alejandro was up one night talking to Ghost about it, he could hear the smile on his face even over the phone. Alejandro was outside, enjoying the cool breeze as they talked. He was watching Rudy through the window as Ghost expressed his excitement and joy.

“Every little detail matters. I’m going to make it the most wonderful and memorable day of Johnny’s life.”

Even though Rudy was smiling as he read his book, Alejandro felt himself frown.

“All of us are going to make sure you both have a wonderful and beautiful day, Simon. It’s what you both deserve.”

Alejandro had the pleasure of helping wrangle everything together along with the rest of the wedding party. Gaz was trying to act like he wasn’t holding back tears as they planned his best friends’ day. Alejandro had found Gaz sobbing behind some flower arrangements.

“Kyle?”

Gaz didn’t bother to look at him, “They’re killing me!”

Alejandro saw that Gaz was looking at his phone, seeing a paragraph of text from Soap.

“Johnny just sent me a rough draft of his vows. It’s so sickening! I might throw up with how sweet it is!”

Alejandro smiles and pats Gaz’s back, “Save the tears.”

“If I do that I might flood the church!”

Price wasn’t much better. He, Laswell, and Alejandro went with Ghost to look at tuxedos. When Ghost tried on the third tux, Alejandro could see Price struggling to keep it together. Laswell had to step away to give herself a moment before she came back. She was also taking a million pictures, Ghost groaning when she kept having him turn around.

“I don’t even know if I want this one.”

“I don’t care! I’m savoring every moment of this!”

Ghost didn’t pick a tux that day but no one was in a rush. That night, Gaz called and talked about Soap and how his father and mother were pestering him about growing his hair out for the wedding. Alejandro laughed, he couldn’t imagine Soap with a full head of hair.

“It’s getting closer…”

Rudy nodded, falling asleep on Alejandro’s chest. Alejandro thumbed his wedding ring, wondering what kind of wedding Rudy and him would’ve had. Something traditional? A small gathering of their closest friends and relatives? Rudy hasn’t been in contact with his parents and family for years. Would they come? If not, who would walk Rudy down the isle?

“Estás pensando demasiado alto, amor.” (You’re thinking too loud, love.)

“Lo siento, flor” (I’m sorry, blossom.)

Rudy mumbles, burying his face against Alejandro’s chest. Alejandro sighs, closing his eyes and attempting to drift off to sleep. For the next couple of months, up until the wedding, Alejandro continued to think. As everything built up, to the decorations, seating arrangements, guest list, food— All Alejandro could think about is what Rudy and him would’ve chosen. He tried to not let his busy mind get in the way of helping make his friends’ most amazing and impactful day of their lives become reality.

The dancing classes Alejandro attended with Gaz, Ghost, and Soap was fun. Soap insisted that Alejandro and Gaz were going to dance together at the wedding, and Alejandro laughed as Gaz stared at him in judgment.

“I don’t dance.”

“You will!”

Gaz groaned loudly before turning to Alejandro. Alejandro had to laugh at the face he was making as they followed the dance teacher’s instructions.

“At least you haven’t stepped on my feet yet.”

Immediately after those words left Alejandro’s mouth, Gaz purposely stepped on his foot.

“Oh, my bad.”

Alejandro went to say something when he noticed Ghost and Soap as they practiced. He saw how carefully they moved, Soap grinning like a madman. Ghost was looking at him like he was the only person in the whole world. Alejandro stumbled over his own feet and made Gaz lose balance, causing him to fall against Alejandro. They didn’t fall to the floor, thankfully, but they still were in a awkward position.

“You clumsy ass!”

The old lady who was instructing them gasped at Gaz’s words while Soap laughed. Alejandro helped Gaz stand while grinning. Once Gaz was standing on his own, he smacked Alejandro’s shoulder and backed away.

“I don’t know how Rudy deals with you!”

“I am very charismatic.”

Gaz glares at Alejandro while the instructor announces that it was break time. Soap and Ghost walked over with matching grins.

“Do we need to separate you two?”

Alejandro shrugs, “I don’t know what’s Kyle’s issue. I thought we were doing fine.”

It isn’t a secret on how some friends can’t work with each other due to how they distract one another. Gaz and Alejandro so happened to be that type of friends. Well, sometimes they were like that. But they knew that this wedding was important and they weren’t going to be the ones that disrupt it.

“I swear if it rains-“

“Tents exist, Simon.”

Soap and Ghost were set on everything happening outside. The actual ceremony would happen inside the church but everything else would be outside. Alejandro and Gaz had been running around to make everything was perfect. From looking at pole tents, DJs, what drinks and food to serve, getting all allergies down— It was a lot of work but they were happy to do it.

With the wedding right around the bend and finishing touches being made, Ghost became increasingly anxious. He was pacing as he and Alejandro went over last minute details to make sure everything was perfect.

"What if he changes his mind about marrying me?"

Alejandro rolls his eyes, "Mi hermano, in what world or timeline would Johnny not want you?"

Ghost sighs, "Just... he could do so much better than me."

"Simon, you are a damn good man. I can't imagine a single person who is better than you."

Ghost huffs but Alejandro could see a hint of a smile in his eyes. Alejandro helped Ghost arrange a gift to be sent to Soap the night before the wedding. A simple bottle of whisky and chocolates with a note. Ghost worried he should have something more extravagant delivered but Alejandro assured him Soap would love anything he sent him. From a bottle of wine from the corner store or a bottle of whisky straight from the distillery.

Alejandro had to help Ghost calm down enough to sleep. Though he, too, had a hard time settling down. Tomorrow was the big day.

"No sneaking out the window," Alejandro joked as Ghost sat on his hotel room's bed.

They decided Soap would stay at his parents' house while Ghost stayed in a hotel. Alejandro and Rudy were staying in the room right next door and Laswell was in her own room with her wife down the hall, Price in the room across from hers. If Ghost did try to run (which he wouldn't in a million years), someone was bound to catch him in the act.

Alejandro groans and falls into the bed next to Rudy. He feels his husband rub his back which made Alejandro groan again.

"Can't wait for the wedding to be over with?"

"I love Simon and Johnny but god I had no idea planning a wedding would be this exhausting."

Rudy hums and Alejandro felt his heart twist. He would've been just like Ghost if he was planning his wedding with Rudy. Every detail would matter. Location, guests, decorations, the food-- Everything. Alejandro sits up in the bed, kneeling in front of Rudy.

"Mi amor? Something wrong?"

Alejandro reaches over and takes Rudy's hand, thumbing over his wedding band.

"Remember when we were kids and you talked about your dream wedding?"

Rudy sighs, "Ale-"

"Rudy, please..."

"Yes, but that was years ago. What child doesn't dream about their wedding?"

Alejandro scoots closer, "I should've given you that wedding. Some way or how-"

"Alejandro, I don't need a wedding. I am married to you, not having a ceremony does not change that."

Rudy moves and crawls closer to Alejandro, cupping his face.

"I am happy, my love. I have you and that is what matters."

Even with Rudy kissing him to seal that fact, Alejandro still felt doubt. When they were children, while Alejandro was sword fighting the neighborhood kids with sticks, Rudy was creating stories. One story was his wedding. Back then, Rudy and Valeria would 'kidnap' Alejandro and have a dramatic mock wedding. If Alejandro knew those silly games would be the closest thing he had to having a ceremony with Rudy, he would've done things differently.

When morning came, Alejandro put on a face for the wedding. He felt anxious so he knew that Ghost was going to be far worse.

"Today's the day," Alejandro muttered as he went to make sure Ghost was ready to get this over with.

Rudy parted from the hotel after giving Alejandro an encouraging kiss. Hearing Laswell finally let out a sob when reality hit her brought Alejandro's attention back to Ghost. They dressed Ghost, made sure everything looked in order, then headed out for the church. Alejandro could feel the tension coming off of Ghost in waves, the man fidgeting with the cuffs of his suit.

"Everything is going to go perfectly, mi hermano."

Ghost breathed out, head resting against the back of the seat, "I hope so... I never thought this day would come for me..."

Alejandro pats Ghost's knee, "Course it would come. Just had to wait for Johnny."

Ghost cracks a contagious smile that Alejandro couldn't help but return.

Everything from that point on, thankfully, went without issues. The guests were behaved (Alejandro was concerned about Soap's family but he wouldn't dare say that out loud), everything was in place, the priest was ready to go-- Everything was perfect! Gaz had given Alejandro an earpiece so they could communicate and Alejandro couldn't help but laugh.

"This isn't a mission, Kyle."

"Uh, yes it is. A life mission."

Alejandro laughed as Gaz continued out, both of them making sure no issues even had a chance to take root. Finally, it was time. Everyone took their places, and soon the ceremony started. The priest took his place at the alter, then Ghost took his place with Alejandro following suit. Alejandro could see Rudy in the crowd, near tears. Alejandro could see Ghost fidgeting again as the rest of the wedding party took their places and, finally, Soap walked down the isle with his father.

Alejandro could see the awestruck look on Ghost's face, the love and adoration as Soap made his way down the isle, kilt and all. The look never went away, even with Soap standing in front of him. Alejandro found himself imagining him and Rudy in their position, in front of an alter, family and friends around them, laying witness to their union. He was unaware of how much time passed, of what was said. Alejandro was lost, imagining a beautiful ceremony, catered to Rudy and all that he ever dreamt of.

Then the priest started to give a speech about marriage and he snapped out of it. Ghost and Soap seemed almost lost staring at each other, the love so strong that Alejandro could get sick by it. Finally, it was time to exchange vows,

"Simon and John, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

"Yes."

"Will you honor each other as husbands for the rest of your lives?"

"Yes."

Alejandro could hear a shake in Ghost's voice as he spoke, holding Soap's hands in such a delicate manner. As if he was afraid this would all go away if he squeezed too hard.

"I, Simon, take you, John, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

Alejandro could see Price sobbing, tears streaming down his face. Laswell was rubbing his shoulder, tears also in her eyes.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, take and wear this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness."

Ghost managed to slip the ring onto Soap's finger without dropping it. The man was barely containing his shaky hands. Alejandro swallows hard, thinking about the ring he had gotten Rudy. It wasn't anything special. Wasn't expensive or worth showing off. It was just a plain wedding band, something to show that Rudy was taken. Nothing more.

There was more preaching and prayer until, finally-

The kiss shared between Ghost and Soap was the most passionate one Alejandro had ever seen them share. Tears in their eyes, Soap cupping Ghost's face as they smooshed their faces together. Alejandro swears he could hear Price losing it but he didn't look to confirm it. After the priest's final blessing, the wedding party begun to leave. Soap's nieces who served as flower girls skipping down the isle, throwing their petals with glee.

Alejandro joined with Rudy as soon as he could, choked up by it all. He swept his husband into his arms, not giving the man a chance to say anything. He captured his husband's lips into a kiss before pulling away, holding his face.

"Let's get married."

"What? Ale-"

"I want a do over. A ceremony."

Rudy places a hand over Alejandro's that held his face, "Ale, I don't need a ceremony."

"But you deserve one. And I swear I will give you one."

Rudy chokes up, leaning in to kiss Alejandro. They part smiling, tears wetting their cheeks. They made their way back to the rest of the party, Ghost and Soap pressed against each other, staring at each other like there was no one else there. Alejandro kept a firm hand on Rudy's, smiling.

He'll make sure his husband gets this. It's what he deserves.

___

[jake-is-screaming-in-tune]

Hello! I'm back with some Tiger!Zoro

[bonsubear]

I'm So Hungry I Could Eat Your Ex │ Oliver and Mark Snippet

Very small snippet of Oliver doing the "I'm so hungry I could eat …" trend on Mark

CW: ooc, does not fit anywhere in canon plotline, very short

WC: 1.6k

Oliver was giggling to himself while holding an old, clearly worn-out phone that he had found two weeks ago when he was aimlessly walking around the house.

It was boring to be left alone, and it was only natural that he went snooping around drawers and cupboards in search for something to entertain himself.

That was when he found an old phone that used to belong to someone else in the house, the older model and the scratches that littered the front of the screen clear that it had a previous owner a long time ago.

Though it was his now—not that mom or Mark knew.

They said that he wasn't allowed to have his own phone until he was older and was taught properly about internet safety. Which was stupid, he'd been on the internet before on Mom's phone and it wasn't like it had fists to fight him!

Not that he would lose if it did—he'll so kick its ass.

Using his not-really-brand-new phone, he found the App Store and began downloading a bunch of stuff.

It was mostly mobile games with bright flashy colors and the simplest game mechanics known to man, but he became hooked on them quickly. That was until Oliver became slowly fed up at how each time, he finished a level, a one-minute advertisement would pop up to interrupt his fun.

He associated his phone to simply playing games when no one was around, not really thinking anything more of it.

That was until one of his mobile games advertised TikTok to him, and he was so curious on seeing what it was he downloaded it immediately.

And boy, it was the best thing ever!

Oliver discovered so many funny things and discovered funny people! He followed everyone and anyone that made him laugh, and he actually began gaining some mutuals because of how active he was in every comment section he came across.

His favorite thing right now however was the trend that was going around about people saying they were hungry and calling out the name of the person's friend that they shouldn't know—it was hilarious!

Oliver kicked his feet in the air, the phone close to his nose as he opened up the comment section.

XxsupercoolkidxX 😂😂😂ts so funny i gotta do it 2 my bro

He got a notification that someone replied to him.

bonsubear LOL do it n post it while the trend is still alive !!

XxsupercoolkidxX ok😂😂😂😂

Oliver jumped from the couch, floating in the air with his phone still in hand. He scrunched his brows as he tried to think how to get the funniest reaction from his brother, not really knowing how to find out the names of any of his friends.

Especially one that would get a big reaction out of him.

Eh, he'll figure it out!

He snooped around hard enough to find this thin, black book that was lying around the house. It was stashed inside the corner of a closet, clearly tossed and forgotten about as soon as it hit the wall.

In front of the cover was written in a white marker, Mark Grayson, with the year written next to it.

This belongs to Mark!

Opening it curiously, it was a bunch of photos with words next to it. He had an unimpressed look on his face as he flipped through the pages absentmindedly, not really interested in what the paragraphs had to say.

He came across endless pages of random people posing for a picture, and Oliver pouted as he thought this was boring.

That was until he came across a page that had a picture of a girl with curly hair, the frame around her picture adorned with hearts drawn on. The colors were pink and red, with yellow stars next to it.

Underneath the photo portrait was the name Amber Bennett, and it seemed like Mark really liked her.

“Hehe.” Oliver giggled, a mischievous grin blooming on his face. His lips resembled that of a cat’s smile with how the corner of his lips curled, rounding upward. “Perfect!”

Mark Grayson was sitting at the dinner table, having entered the house through the sliding doors. He was stuffing his face with the dinner that they had last night, heating it up in the microwave moments prior.

He was hungry and tired, practically shoving the food down his throat without swallowing with how empty his stomach was. He had pushed off not eating because of so many things happening for too long, the stomach pains while flying over here actually caused him some trouble.

Oliver flew around the corner, hiding the phone behind his back that was already recording. He had a sly grin on his face, Mark not noticing as he was too preoccupied by filling his stomach.

“Hey Oliver.” He greeted lazily, not sparing a glance as he barely chewed his food.

“Hehe, hi.” Oliver giggled, already unable to suppress his laughter that was bubbling in his throat. He hovered closer to his older brother, shifting the phone in his hand to face his direction. It was slanted, but it still captured Mark eating—completely unaware what was about to happen.

“I’m—pfft—I’m so hungry right now.” The purple-skinned boy snickered, covering his mouth with his free hand.

“There’s still leftovers from last night.” Mark pointed out, still not looking over to the direction of his younger brother that was having difficulty in holding it in. “Go heat it up for lunch, it’s still good.” He commented, stabbing his fork inside a cube of meat and popping it in his mouth.

Oliver shook his head, dismissing what his brother had told him to do. Mark was about to plunge his fork into another piece of meat, Oliver continuing to speak. “No, like, I’m so hungry right now I could eat Amber Bennett.”

CRACK!

Mark hand slipped, the fork going straight through the ceramic bowl that held his food in and impaling itself inside the wooden frame of the dining table. His head whipped to Oliver, his eyes wide and blinking like crazy, processing what his younger brother had just said so casually.

Oliver jumped, startled, letting out a nervous laugh.

“How—what I—how do you know her?!” Mark stuttered, looking at Oliver as if he had grown a new set of arms. He stood up from his seat, the chair getting knocked back and falling on the floor with a thud.

He let out a nervous, but deranged laugh not knowing exactly how to take his brother bringing up the first ever girlfriend he’d ever had. “How do you know her? How—ah—Oliver how do you know who that is?”

“Uh... you never get hungry for some Amber Bennett?” He shrugged. The camera was still filming.

“Wait—well uh, I used to I guess—okay that’s beside the point. Oliver, how do you know who that is?” Mark repeated the question again, walking towards his younger brother. He narrowed his eyes, noticing the phone peeking out of his back that had the flash on.

“Are you filming me? Whose phone is that?”

“It’s mine.”

“You’re not allowed to have your own phone yet! I didn’t get my own phone until I was fourteen!”

Oliver stuck his tongue out, blowing raspberries. “Sucks to be you! I’m mom’s favorite!” He taunted, bringing the phone in front of him to emphasis his point. “Got my own phone and everything.”

Mark scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ve been with mom for 18 years, I’m pretty sure I’m her favorite. Now, give me that phone—how’d you even get that?!”

“No!” Oliver screeched, turning on his heel in the air to run away. “I still have to post this!” He screamed before running out of the room, Mark quick on his trail.

“Post?! You are not old enough for social media!”

“I’m old enough for some Amber Bennett!”

“No, you’re not! Never say that again!”

Oliver burst out laughing, his smile reaching his ears as he landed on the wooden sleek floors just in time before Mark swung his arm in attempt to grab the younger Thraxan hybrid.

The momentum he was going at in the air didn’t transition well when he hit his feet on the ground, his socks causing him to slide across the floor. His eyes widen as he was hurled straight into a wall, crashing inside of it leaving a gaping hole of his silhouette behind.

He let go of the phone he had in his hand, the electronic flying across the floor.

The front door suddenly opened, Debbie holding a bag of takeout that she had bought before coming back home. She looked up, a gasp leaving her lips as she immediately noticed the gaping hole that was inside the wall of the hallway.

Oliver hissed, rubbing his head while he stepped out of the hole.

“Oliver!” Debbie gasped out.

Oliver jumped, looking at his mom. “Uh,” his eyes flickered at the hole in the wall that was obviously shaped like him. He raised a finger, pointing at Mark who was standing behind him, trying to muffle his laughter. “He did it! He pushed me!”

“What?! I did not push him!”

“You so did!”

“I so didn’t! Stop lying!” Mark turned to his mom, pointing at his younger brother. “He has a phone somehow! And he brought up my ex!” 

Debbie looked at the two of them like they were wild, shifting her gaze from Oliver to Mark. She was confused on what was happening, not expecting to be greeted so soon with chaos. “What?”

“What’s an ex! I said Amber Bennett stupid!”

“Stop saying her name—how do you know her?!”

Oliver simply stuck his tongue out, “Amber Bennett! Amber Bennett! Amber Bennett!” He repeated like a mantra, Mark raising his voice as he grabbed a hold of Oliver’s shoulders—shaking him back and forth in an effort to interrogate him.

 Debbie sighed, shaking her head as they continued to bicker loudly.

Oliver I'm so hungry I could eat the fine piece of ass called your older brother aka Mark Grayson !!

also this is just so random whyd i write this

Tag List for All Works: @calicocat-ina-tuxedo

[liolet]

repression, and the guilt it causes when you're not with me - an annie x reader drabble

Feelings are easily ignored one would think, especially if the aggravator is locked away in a stone made of clear crystal. When you can see her but not touch her, talk to her but get no reply, overthinking sets in and guilt surrounding your relationship with Annie is embedded to to bone.

The stone floors all look the same. From room to room, the bumps and lines are all in the exact same place. Dents and crevasses paint a marble of patterns on the walls, almost identical to the room next to it, and the one opposite. Even if we move into a different room, they all look the same. The beaten, worn stone turns more battered the more you’re in the room. Like your mere presence is enough to make stone regret and cave into itself. Like your mere presence causes confident stone to pull away and retreat into dirt.

The guard that frequents this room pays attention to more than just her stone. She hears, she listens. Every word spoken is captured by the guard’s ear. She knows everything, she sees it too. Their watchful eyes burn into your back when you visit her. You can’t say more than simple ‘hellos’ and ‘I’ve been good’. Their sorrow glares and the glances full of regret and shame. Every movement shows what you really are. Every shift, every stance - it gives you away. Shows your true self to them and they can’t help but look away, filled with disgust. They ought to have you removed from her care.

All of the lingering feelings. All of the thoughts about her that never leave no matter how much you focus on other things. It all leads back to her. Your stupid Annie. So, you vowed to leave them in this room. You vowed to not think about her unless you were with her. You vowed to not smell her hair, to hear her laugh, to say her name. Unless you were with her.

Her lifeless expression seen under the stone never wavered. Her face never moved, not an inch. Her shoulders tense and her legs stiff. For even she knows what you are. You never hid it with her. Despite her mundane choice of words and her nonchalant attitude, the shame and guilt vanished in the moments you were with her. Those perpetual, repulsive thoughts seemingly disappeared when you were with her. She let you get it all out, “Repressing feelings is never a good thing”, she would say, to try and coax more feelings out of you. It’s ironic now. All that talk about being free and letting go, and she went and suppressed herself inside a stone. One that can’t be broken. At least she’s free from all of your guilt.

But the guilt and shame hunts you down. The knowledge of your moments together, all your hushed sighs and the rustled bed sheets, always found you. Like a poltergeist with a nasty attachment to you. It pushed doors open, the creaks reminding you of the bed bouncing. It opens windows and the wind blowing in howls like a subtle moan. You’ll never escape it.

And everyone knows. They see it clear as day. They whisper about you in the dining hall. They gossip and glare as you walk past, heading for the cold, dark room. Where else would you be? No other room holds your heart inside it. You follow the everlasting hallways to her room. The abstract patterns in the stone ways start to bend and form words. Even the walls know. They’ve seen everything. Every touch, every fuck, and every stare, even those not reciprocated. The words etched into the walls bore back at you. They scream, they holler, they shout. They’ve seen the guilt and heard every repressed thought of her. No act of reconciliation goes unnoticed. Every attempt to get her out of that god forsaken stone.

You come to the door, but it’s broken open, hinges barely holding onto the wall. The room sits empty, no guard to listen in on all your intimate and private moments with her. But where is she? Her stone lays shattered across the floor. The pieces scattered everywhere and the stone concrete floors are drenched in wet slime. The feeling disgusts you, it’s all too familiar for you to handle. Yet, she’s gone. But you mustn't think of where she could be. She isn’t with you anymore, so you cannot think of her. You vowed not to.

Down the hall, in yet another dull, gray room, shouts emerge and thuds vibrate the floor. You don’t bother to deal with that issue. You’re too preoccupied with the dilemma you face currently. For you are forever guilty without her. The room that encompassed your safety has vanished. Those repulsive thoughts flood back to you, clouding every corner of your mind. The shame can finally hunt you down and finish the job off. Footsteps come chasing towards you. They grow louder and louder as they inch closer. Finally, you’ll meet your end and be set free. A life without her is not one worth living. The walls spill out all of your secrets. The people gossip and whisper. The guilt grows louder.

Every inch of the building shakes. The walls, the floor, the door - everything. It rattles and rumbles. The walls finally start to crumble and break. The dirt seeps from the corners and the beams start to fall from the ceiling and crash onto the floor. You back out of the room. All your secrets being left in that room, setting you free. Freedom finds you, not guilt. The room has fallen and all your tainted vows fall with it. It’s all destroyed. You’re free to think. About her. About it all. Free to think about every touch, every fuck, and every reciprocated stare. And the smell of her hair, her laugh, and her name, Annie.

You hope, you dream that you get to be with her. To finally be free of the shackles you put yourself in. that room is no more and neither are your perpetual, repulsive thoughts. Simple eye contact is all you need. All the remnants of shame, guilt, and fear have since left you. You touch, you hold, you feel. She grabs you and you feel weightless. Her arms wrap around your neck and you two collapse to the floor. Her existence is enough to make you feel free.

[i-am-church-the-cat]

fresh kill

wc: 1745 summary: "This is your mouse, congratulations." | Or how the boys first meet in my patron deity au

also read on ao3

People at the karting track were leaving quite a berth between them and the two Sargeant brothers. Dalton, almost 17 and more than used to his kind of behavior, doesn’t think anything of it. He came out to Europe to see his brother not people with gods too scared to talk with them. Dalton could tell it was bothering Logan, though. Logan, who was all alone in a foreign continent, who felt distinctly apart from everyone else, and not just because he has a predator god as a patron. 

Most of the other kids are avoiding Logan like the plague. The longer it goes on, the more his brother looks like a kicked puppy. His brother’s a bother at the best of times, but Dalton is still fiercely protective over him. He wants to march around to all the adults and yell at them for ignoring a kid. A kid. Logan’s barely 13!

Before Logan can burst into tears and Dalton can start ripping people to shreds, a boy roughly the same age and size as Logan pops out of nowhere. He still looks wary at approaching the son of a hunter god, but he’s clearly brave enough that it isn’t holding him back. 

“I’m Oscar,” the boy says. There’s something weirdly syrupy in his tone and it takes Dalton a second to place it. Fucking children of sleep, they’re the worst on a race track. They’re a straight up danger if they don’t know how to regulate their energy. Though, if no one’s gonna make a fuss, Dalton isn’t. This is the only kid who’s talked to them all day and Logan’s spirits are finally starting to lift. 

“I’m Logan,” he says, bright and chipper, squeaky and cracking around the edges. “Are you racing today.”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, slowly once again. Dalton’s pretty sure it’s less his personality and more because Logan just asked a ridiculously obvious question. He’s in a race suit and has a yellow, blue, orange helmet under his arm. “You qualified tenth for this race, right?”

Dalton’s honestly surprised Oscar noticed. How long has the kid been building up the courage to come talk to them? Logan’s head flops around on his neck in a facsimile of a nod. 

“Yeah, yeah. You qualified higher, though.”

“Sixth, yeah,” Oscar agrees with a short nod. The difference in demeanor between the two boys is slightly jarring. It’s like being light-headed from elevation at the same time as being buried beneath the earth to sleep. For someone on the outside, like Dalton, it was giving him a headache. Logan and Oscar seemed to not notice at all, attracting more like magnets. 

“I’ll just have to catch up with you, then,” Logan says. He tilts his head and Dalton can recognize the look of interest catching in Logan’s head. Not just for a new friend but for a new target. He sighs internally and hopes this guy doesn’t go running for the hills.

Oscar doesn’t seem to notice Logan’s newfound fascination. He just shrugs. 

“You can try, but I’ll probably be in first before you get to seventh.”

Both Sargeant boys blink, taken aback. Before Logan can respond, a woman who looks a lot like Oscar is calling his name and waving him over. The drowsy boy looks over his shoulder at her before turning back to Logan. 

“See ya, then.”

It’s only when Oscar is walking away that Dalton realize the kid never once addressed him. Kind of rude. Before he can bring up the topic of getting something to eat to his brother, Logan is turning to him with wide eyes. 

Blue-green eyes. Shit. 

“I like him,” Logan tells him, reedy voice going sharp. His brother is bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, like he’s about to take off. “I wanna beat him.”

Dalton sighs for real this time. 

--

Logan chases the blue, yellow, orange helmet all the way up to second place. Dalton figures he would have caught the kid if they’d had another couple of turns. But as fast as Logan was when he was hunting, Oscar was somehow just that bit faster. Dalton wondered if the kid had any idea what he was doing. 

From the dazed expression Oscar had when he got out of the kart, he would say no. 

Speaking of dazed expressions, Logan’s eyes don’t leave Oscar’s once during the podium ceremony. He barely manages to get a word out to the announcer. The boy on the step above him doesn’t once glance his way. 

Dalton can see Logan getting more antsy the longer Oscar ignores him. He wonders if he’s seriously going to have to drag his brother back to their car to keep him from jumping this poor kid. But Logan steps off of the podium without argument, making his way to Dalton’s side without once looking at him. He’s holding his second-place trophy in a loose fist as he watches Oscar head back to his family. 

“Quite a race, dude, you almost had him,” Dalton says, forgoing his usual noogie for the mild apprehension that Logan might bite him. “Want me to take that for you?”

Logan finally tears his eyes away from the son of sleep and looks down at his trophy as if seeing it for the first time. He looks at it for a while, then between it and Oscar, then to Dalton. He gets a sinking feeling in his gut before Logan even opens his mouth. 

“I need to give this to him.”

Before Dalton can explain that that would be crazy and that his hormones are all out of wack right now, Logan is taking off at a brisk walk towards Oscar. The older Sargeant curses and takes off after him. With his brother’s luck, Logan’s gonna end up flat on his ass and banned from any more karting events for being fucking weird. 

Logan pulls up short right in front of Oscar. Oscar doesn’t seem to mind the intrusion of his personal space, just raises one bored eyebrow up at Logan’s appearance. 

“Hey, mate, what’s up?”

Logan opens his mouth. Closes it. Does this a few more times before shoving his trophy forward into Oscar’s chest.

“Here.”

Oscar looks down at the trophy that was unceremoniously shoved into his arms and then back up at Logan. There’s only confusion in his expression before a spark of annoyance appears. 

“I don’t want your second-place trophy, mate. If you didn’t notice, I won. I came in first, not you.”

Oscar tries to shove the trophy back into Logan’s arms but the blond makes a sound not unlike a squawking bird and just tries to give it back. They end up in this weird tug-of-war situation, except instead of tugging, they’re both trying really really hard to push it away. 

“No, it’s yours.”

“I didn’t come in second, it’s yours.”

“But I’m giving it to you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dalton finally decides to step in for the lack of any other semi-adult figure. He pulls his dejected-looking brother away from Oscar, who’s still fuming at the assumed insult. Logan looks from the trophy in his hands and then up at Dalton. He looks fucking pitiful, the goof. He sighs and decides to at least try and help his little brother. 

“Look, Oscar,” he starts, baring the thoroughly unimpressed look the other 13-year-old gives him. “You know how a cat sometimes bring mice to their owners?”

“I’m not a cat!” Logan sputters indignantly at the same time Oscar says, “Yeah?”

Dalton snags the trophy from Logan’s hands and holds it out to the Australian. “This is your mouse, congratulations.”

Logan looks like he wants to argue the point but Oscar is looking at the two brothers with much more consideration then before. Just when Dalton is sure his brother’s gonna get rejected again, he gently takes the trophy.

“Okay,” Oscar says, tucking the slightly smaller trophy against his side next to the big trophy. “As long as you’re not taking mine.”

Logan’s head flies from side-to-side like a hummingbird wing. Fucking goof.

“Alright, then,” Oscar finally seems to relax. He offers Logan a tentative smile and Dalton can feel his brother practically droop against his side. Oh, thank god, somehow this kid’s mojo got Logan’s hyperfocus to take a fucking break. That would have taken Dalton forever.

“I have to go now. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya,” Logan says, but Oscar is already gone. For a kid so lethargic, he sure does move fast. The Sargeant boys watch him walk away, one with little hearts flying around his head and one utterly done with this shit.

“Well,” Dalton looks down at his little brother. “I’m never letting you off your leash again.”

Logan turns right around and bites him. The fucking brat.  

--

New day, new race, same track and same opponents. Dalton is sitting on a fold-out chair watching Logan’s mechanic walk him through different parts of his kart. His little brother is nodding along, entirely focused on the car, until the smell of rain at nighttime come through. Then he’s a fucking lost cause.

Oscar is standing at the entrance to their tent, looking at Logan almost as intensely as the blond is looking to him. His little brother bounds over without a second thought in his empty little head.

“Hey! What’s up?” Logan sounds so excited. Dalton’s honestly embarrassed for him.

“I had a dream about you,” Oscar says without preamble. Dalton chokes on the Coke he was drinking but neither boy seems to care that he’s in the throes of a cheap death. 

A sleep god gave their kid a dream about Logan? About his little brother? This can’t be real life. 

Logan, without a clue in the world of the implications of that statement, just says, “Cool, was it a good one?”

Oscar seems to think about it for a second before nodding. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it was a pretty good one.”

That statement must have been some kind of secret code the two made up the second Dalton wasn’t there, because Logan just nods and doesn’t react at all when Oscar grabs his wrist and starts pulling Logan out of the tent. Logan starts yammering away in his usual hyperactivity, and Oscar just nods along as he leads the blond to gods know where. 

And Dalton is left sitting in the kart tent. What the fuck is his life?

[starlight-tav]

Mortal Again

Gale x Trans Male Tav

Content: smut, minor act 2 spoilers, slightly angsty gale, lots of fluff and trust, anal sex (Amethyst uses magic to enlarge his bottom growth for penetration), hope

Summary: Gale doesn't know why Amethyst cares for him, but he finally confesses that he wants him. In return, Amethyst gives him everything.

Gale can hardly believe it on the best of days – that Amethyst would have affection for someone like him. He is a constellation of insecurity, ravenous ambition, and spurned desires. And now he is also given unto death by the gods themselves. What can he offer him, save for blathering lectures and ill-wrought witticisms?

Gods, but he wishes Tara were here; well, rather he wishes he were at home in Waterdeep and her good company. For all is foolhardiness, she offers him remarkably little judgment. Constructive criticism? Aplenty. But judgment? No. She only wishes to see him contented. And, if he were completely honest with himself, she seems to know better than he how to achieve that. Always has. 

Gale draws in a surplus of breath and releases it like a field ox under heavy yoke. Amethyst's ears perk at the sound from his perch at Astarion's tent. To the vampire spawn's great relief, the half-elf's words trail off as he becomes distracted by the wizard's distress. 

"Just go to him," Astarion groans, momentarily dropping his mending work to his lap. "And leave me to my task. You're annoying me." 

Amethyst glares at Astarion and the spawn shoos him. The urge to stubbornly remain at his companion's side out of spite is strong, but the desire to investigate Gale's weariness is stronger. 

Amethyst stands and crosses camp. He finds Gale seated on a stool, book unopened in his lap, with a ponderous frown creasing his brow. 

"Care to share the burden, my dear?" Amethyst ventures, squatting in his usual way in front of Gale so he can look up into the wizard's eyes. 

Immediately, Gale's brow softens, and a smile graces his lips as if unbidden. He opens his mouth to protest, but his thoughts of Tara chastise him as though she were actually present. She would urge him to be honest with one he claims to be so fond of. So, he asks Amethyst to join him for a walk. 

The pair travel in companionable silence to a knoll blanketed in the dark grass so common here in the Shadow-cursed Lands. Gale sits first and then gestures for Amethyst to join him. 

"I've been thinking about you," Gale begins, eyes trained on a crooked tree just ahead of them. "And how strange it is that you've come to care for me."

Amethyst's pale brows furrow as he examines Gale's expression. He doesn't know what he sees there, so he waits for Gale to continue. 

"The truth is, I fear I have too little time left and even fewer virtues to give you. In a wry twist of fate, it seems that the very thing that could fashion me into a far worthier man would also bring our journey together to an end. You deserve more than a fool. More than a sacrificial lamb. More than I am. And yet…" 

Gale suddenly turns to look at Amethyst, and just as Gale softened the moment he heard the half-elf's voice, so too did Amethyst melt into the warmth of the wizard's gaze.

"…And yet, selfishly, I want you. I want to give myself to you. A paltry offering, I am, but-"

Amethyst surges forward and quiets Gale with a touch of his lips to the corner of the wizard's mouth. 

He pulls away from Gale, just enough to capture his eyes with his own, and assures him with confidence and grace, "There is nothing meager about what you are willing to share with me, Gale. I want it all. I want you. And you can have all of me in return." 

Perhaps it is the earnestness with which Amethyst speaks, but Gale finds neither will nor word of protest within himself. Instead, he leans into his companion and kisses him delicately. 

Amethyst responds eagerly, pressing into Gale's body, his hand finding the back of Gale's neck to pull him closer. 

Gale marvels at the balance Amethyst strikes between insistence and restraint, and chuckles against his lips. 

"What's so funny?" Amethyst asks, smiling in between pecks to Gale's cheek and jaw.

Gale's hand travels the length of Amethyst's arm and shoulder to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck as the warlock-sorcerer nips at his skin. "Nothing. You're perfect," he says. Amethyst hums against him and sucks lightly at his throat. 

Gale moans, a quiet and desperate little sound. 

"Like that?" Amethyst asks.

"Yes." Gale tugs on Amethyst's hair so the man looks up at him. "I'm all yours, Amethyst."

The way that Gale says it makes his meaning clear, and Amethyst grins before pressing an agonizingly chaste kiss to Gale's adam's apple. 

"Want me to mark you?" He asks, nipping playfully. "Want me to write my desire into your skin?" 

"Yes. Gods, yes." 

Amethyst latches onto Gale, sucking bruises into the column of his throat, and Gale's grip in his white hair tightens. 

The half-elf hums with pleasure at the sting on his scalp and the sound makes Gale's cock throb. 

Gale nearly whimpers his lover's name and Amethyst bites him in response.

"I want to fuck you," Amethyst speaks against Gale's skin, voice darkened with need. 

"I would like that very much." Gale cards his fingers through Amethyst's hair. "I want it to be perfect. I want to bond with you the way the gods do."   Amethyst freezes for a brief moment, body gone rigid against Gale's before he slowly disentangles from the Wizard.

"What's wrong?" Gale asks, voice gone tight with restrained panic.

Amethyst uses both of his hands to tenderly hold Gale's face, thumbs gently tracing his cheek bones. 

"Gale, I am no god," he says, sadness where desire filled his voice only a moment ago. "I neither need nor want perfection."

Like hearth fire, the words soothe something deep inside Gale's heart. Maybe Tara is not the only one with insight into Gale's needs. 

"Okay," Gale smiles and presses his lips to Amethyst's forehead. "What do you have in mind?"

"Just be with me, hm?" Amethyst asks. 

Gale nods. 

Amethyst grins and stands, pulling Gale up with him. They return to camp and surreptitiously gather their bedrolls before returning to their secluded glade. They create a comfortable pallet for themselves and kneel naked before one another, lips joining in a feverish kiss.

Pink blooms beneath Amethyst's ravenous mouth from Gale's jaw to his hips, and it drives the wizard mad. When his lover's tongue finally meets his aching cock, Gale whines like he never has before. 

"Please," he begs, adjusting his position so he can spread his legs to suit Amethyst's broad shoulders. "More." 

Amethyst hums contentedly, dragging his tongue from base to tip before sucking the head into his mouth. 

Gale's toes curl and he groans with the release of weeks of want. With anyone else, he'd have been embarrassed at his easy arousal, but Amethyst responds so greedily to his pleasure that he couldn't be ashamed even if he'd been able to think through the unspent lust.

The half-elf's teeth gently scrape along the underside of Gale's cock and the wizard trembles, his fists bunching in the blanket beneath them. Amethyst lets Gale fall from his mouth so he can speak an incantation to oil his fingers. 

He presses the pad of his thumb to Gale's asshole and looks up at him, "May I?"

"Yes, by all means," Gale nods, grinning.

Amethyst dips his thumb into Gale for a brief moment before replacing it with his index finger. Gale had never had something this solid and warm inside of him before, and the feel of it sends sparks up the length of his spine. 

"Amethyst, please," he requests sweetly. 

Amethyst takes his dick back into his mouth, sinking his finger as far into Gale as it will go, and a melodic whine spills from between Gale's lips. Amethyst slips a second finger into Gale and the wizard gasps when he presses into his prostate. 

"Oh, hells," Gale sighs. "More. Please, more." 

Amethyst happily gives Gale what he asks of him. He swallows around his cock and soon presses a third finger into him. 

"Amethyst, please, I'm close," Gale says, tangling his hand in his lover's hair.

Amethyst releases Gale from his mouth and halts his fingers, keeping him full but no longer stimulating him. 

"Gale?" 

Gale props himself up on an elbow to meet the warlock-sorcerer's gaze. "Yes, my love?"

"I'd like to fuck you now." 

Gale quirks an eyebrow, "Is… that not what you've been doing?" 

Amethyst chuckles and moves forward to kiss Gale. The wizard's asshole clenches around his fingers, and Amethyst pulls them out until Gale whines. 

"I have something else in mind," the half-elf whispers. "Do you trust me?" 

Gale nods, "Of course."

The warlock-sorcerer presses his lips to Gale's chastely and grins. He speaks an incantation and Gale's eyes widen. The wizard's eyes fall to the space between his lover's legs and watch as his small cock grows large enough to penetrate him. Gale's cheeks grow warm and his heart rate increases. 

"Of all the ways I've used magic for intimacy, never have I considered this," he says, giggling with genuine glee. 

"When you're a man like me, innovation is sometimes necessary," Amethyst smiles and Gale sees the vulnerability in his lilac eyes. He realizes belatedly that Amethyst may not have been as confident as he seemed earlier. His heart fills with admiration.

Gale kisses his lover and speaks his desire against his lips. 

"I want you," he says. "I want your cock inside me. Please?" 

Amethyst shivers and presses his tongue into Gale's mouth, voracious with lust and relief. 

Gale feels the length of him between them as they embrace, and it stokes the fire burning in his belly. 

"Amethyst, please," he urges, desperation growing. 

Without further preamble, Amethyst dips his fingers into his own cunt and uses the slick to coat his cock. He lines himself with Gale's asshole and kisses him again as he presses inside. 

Amethyst may not be a god, but his body meeting Gale's is an act of divinity such that Gale breathes his name in supplication.  

"You feel so good," Amethyst praises him, panting into his neck as he rocks his hips against Gale's ass. 

Gale hooks his ankles behind Amethyst's back, pulling him closer, deeper. Amethyst is hard and warm inside of him; and so, so corporeal. He is a comforting weight pressing him into the earth, so substantial – so real. 

"More," he pleads.

Gale doesn't know how, but Amethyst understands what he needs. His lover tugs Gale's hair free of its tie and combs his fingers through it a few times before tugging his head back. Amethyst latches onto his wizard's neck, leaving marks upon his skin like tenets etched in stone. 

Without warning, the heat in Gale's belly swells, and he cums between their bodies with a strangled cry of his lover's name. 

"Fuck, Gale," Amethyst shudders and releases, his slick trickling down the inside of his own thigh. 

Moments pass with them entangled, breathing in the scent of their coupling while their hearts race together. Amethyst lets go of his concentration, and his cock returns to its smaller state. Gale clenches around nothing, missing its warm immediately. 

Amethyst affectionately noses the lines of Gale's orb marking, and it occurs to Gale that he is wholly satisfied. The revelation stirs his emotions and his eyes blur with unshed tears. 

"I had forgotten," he starts to speak, pausing to swallow around the lump in his throat. "I had forgotten how good it could feel to be so mortal." 

Amethyst's gem-like eyes meet his and Gale smiles. 

"Thank you," the wizard says. 

Amethyst kisses Gale, a sweet lingering touch of lips. 

"You make me happy, Gale," Amethyst says with earnest adoration. 

"You make me happy too," Gale promises. 

They lay together for a long while before Gale conjures fresh water for them to wash up with. Amethyst balls up the blanket that was on top of their little pallet and promises himself it'll get washed tomorrow. He and Gale cuddle beneath Amethyst's raggedy quilt, which is thankfully mostly clean.  

While Amethyst naps, Gale scratches lovingly at his scalp and considers himself anew. Tonight, he made love as mortals do – filthy, sweaty, earthen love – and it was the sweetest pleasure he's ever experienced. For the first time in well over a year, he feels truly happy. To be here. To be mortal. To be with a man who may yet love him. 

This is hope, he thinks. And he resolves not to squander it. He will find a way to defeat the Absolute and to live, goddess be damned. 

[moxbryswhore]

The Smallest Man Who Ever lived

After her Summerslam match, and the betrayal, Rhea heads back to her car.

Were you sent by someone

Who wanted me dead?

Did you sleep with a gun,

Underneath our bed?

Were you writing a book

Were you a sleeper cell spy?

-

The event hadn’t even finished, she could hear the thunderous sound of the stadium as she walked towards her truck. But Rhea didn’t care, she didn’t care about Drew Mcintyre beating CM Punks ass, hell right now she didn’t even care much about Damian’s World Heavyweight Championship match. Win or lose, The Judgment Day would never be the same again. The kiss of death had seen to that. The godforsaken kiss that no matter how hard she tried, Rhea couldn’t stop seeing over and over again. She’d been so convinced, when that damned chair had hit the mat, that it was a mistake. That he’d been trying to help her, that it was just another case of Dominik fumbling from the sidelines, but trying his best. Then she’d seen the smirk on his face, watched him pick her up from the ground as he’d done her so many times, after a hard fought battle in the ring. Her blood had run ice cold.

When she’d returned from injury with her sights set on Liv Morgan, incensed that she had laid hands on what Rhea felt she had made very clear was hers, Dominik had spent hours convincing her that there was nothing to worry about, that the obsession was purely one sided. She’d stood beside him while he’d declared his hatred for her. She’d believed every publicly spoken word, every whispered promise late at night. Everything felt like it was going to be okay, she was back, Damian was champion, Finn and JD the tag champs. It was the strongest The Judgment Day had been in what felt like a long time. They were going into Summerslam on the same page. Dominik had been laying from a different rule book though, for a long time

How long had he lied to her? How long had the two of them planned this? Exactly long had he played the doting, adoring boyfriend while all along they planned her downfall? Since before the injury, had he planned that too? Was he secretly thrilled she’d gotten hurt? He’d waved her off the day she’d relinquished her championship, told her that he loved her as she left. Was any of it true? Rhea went back to every moment since then, every phone call, every facetime from the road. Tried to pinpoint the change, but damn.. He was a good liar. Did Rhea teach him to lie that well, imprint that evil streak in him? Had she set up her own downfall?

Rhea reached her truck and climbed into the drivers seat, throwing her luggage onto the seats behind without any care. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. Sure, she wasn’t sure she would have won her title, maybe Liv would have taken some cowardly way out to retain. It wouldn’t have mattered because Rhea would have gotten her hits, would have been satisfied that she’d taught the blonde a lesson once and for all. Her and Dom would’ve left together, hand in hand, would have picked up food to eat back at the hotel, arguing over who gets to play their music on the way. Now the seat beside hers was empty, absent of the sound of Dom’s teasing. His cup from earlier in the day was still sitting in the cup holder, the dregs of coffee long since gone cold. The charging cable still plugged into the dash. Little, insignificant pieces of him that she’d continue to find throughout her life, scattered around her home, like a thousand little razor blades cutting into her.

Why couldn’t he have just left her? A call from him while she was off the road rehabbing to make it easy, some crap excuse about time spent apart, even the truth about his feelings for Liv. Anything. Why this facade of love, why this public humiliation? Had he been miserable the whole time? Two years, planning how he’d take her down, finding the perfect companion in Liv to help him carry it out? This hadn’t just been about ending things, he’d wanted to break her. He’d taken pleasure in it, How could that be right? How could the same man who’d treated Rhea gently, lifted her up so high, treasured her like a prized possession, discard her in such a manner. It was like he was a stranger to her.

She gripped the steering wheel, fingers turning white from the pressure, the leather of the wheel squeaking against her rings. The sounds of the stadium were muffled inside the leather of her truck, but she could make the telltale music of Gunther, and Samantha’s voice declaring him the champion. Damian had lost his title, and Rhea wasn’t there, wouldn’t be in gorilla to greet him as he had so often done for her. She just couldn’t face it, the sideways glances from their coworkers, the whispered hushes of how she probably deserved this after everything she had done.

Maybe they were right, maybe this had been a long time coming? Maybe even before Liv had started playing him like her favourite game, Dom had always planned to one day hurt her the way she had hurt him. Because it was true, their relationship had begun with abuse, hurting him to try and get his attention like a playground shoving contest. Pushung him to the edge to try and unlock that potential that Rhea knew was hidden in there somewhere. She’d dragged him kicking and screaming from beneath the shadow of his legendary father. If he was the monster, she was the one who created him, and he’d turned and sunk his claws into her.

That’s what it felt like, claws dug deep into her skin, beneath her ribs, squeezing the breath out of her. She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, letting the tears roll down her cheeks and further displace the already smudged makeup. Dom had told before the match that she looked beautiful, kissed her sweetly on her perfectly painted lips, knowing on that entire walk to the gorilla position that he would be the cause of her ruined makeup. She briefly wondered if he was nervous, if he had any second thoughts, if he even for a second looked at her and thought he was making the wrong choice.

The phone Rhea had thrown into the passenger seat as she had climbed into the car lit up with a text notification, probably Priest, back in their clubhouse, wondering where the hell she had disappeared to. As much as she wanted to ignore him, to ignore everyone outside of this truck, she wasn’t going to do that to him, not when he too had lost something. Rhea sat herself up and took a deep breath, scrubbing her face of the tears and picking the phone up. She was right, it was a text from Priest, but it wasn’t a ‘where you at’ text, or not even a ‘don’t worry kiddo, we’ll get him.’ promise from her best friend. Eight simple words that knocked the last of her breath out of her, whilst also at the same time made the most sense of anything that had happened tonight.

‘balor screwed me. it’s just us two now.’

Finn had been jealous, he’d been desperate to be in charge for a long time now, to prove he wasn’t below Damian, it was obvious. She’d seen the look thrown Priests way whenever he'd turned his back on Finn. The sneers that he’d thought Rhea hadn’t seen. In the quiet moments between the two best friends, she had tried to warn Damian, but his response had always been the same. ‘He's family, I trust him. You gotta trust him too’. The same way Rhea had trusted Dominik, believed his desperate promises. Where had that trust gotten either of them? Both betrayed by the people they loved the most. A different kind of love between Damian and Finn, sure, more familial and less romantic, but a love nonetheless.

On Monday an angry Rhea would step out into the world with Damian. A bloodthirsty Rhea, ready to paint the walls red, to wreak havoc on the ones who betrayed them. The weakness she’d shown in the ring after the bell would be the last time she ever showed weakness in front of Dominik and Liv Morgan. Saturday night Rhea would cry herself to sleep in an empty bed, devoid of warmth, in a hotel room devoid of ridiculous cow print boots by the door and ridiculous moustache care products on the vanity. She would get her revenge, that was without a doubt, and once that was doled out, Rhea would move on. In time she’d forget the smell of his cologne, the way his fingers would trace the pattern of her tattoos in the morning, the smile on his face when she’d press a kiss to his cheek and leave a lipstick mark on his skin. They would become distant memories, just another era of her career. But she’d never forgive him, not in five years time when they’d have some ill fated reunion, not in twenty years time when maybe they’d find themselves in a hall of fame. She’d forget, but she would never forgive.

-

And in plain sight you hid,

but you are what you did.

And i’ll forget you,

but I’ll never forgive…

..The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived.

[scarscribblesstuff]

Tales of Redactia

Chapter 1: The Sword in the Stone

Fandom: Redacted Audio

Pairings: Gabe Shaw/David's mother

Song: https://open.spotify.com/track/4mihgm7PkoBfslVD4bujOA?si=pXO87qpsRxGoWFnEfP1vQA&context=spotify%3Aalbum%3A2PedUC4azy5ywqWp8gVVrs

It's finally here! Chapter one! It became so much longer than I thought but I'm so excited for this project and I hope you enjoy!!!

Huge thanks and shoutout to my lovely beta readers <3 @ dreaming_every_venture on tiktok @ darciawrites on tiktok ive_seen_all_the_fandoms on Ao3

Please do not feed to AI, claim as your own, or repost to other platforms without my permission. The characters belong to Redacted Audio and this is a fan work.

(Fic below cut)

Once upon a time, in a land not so far from what we know. There was a realm known as Elegy; a fertile and expansive continent hidden in the oceans of Redactia. 

Many stories are told about how each Kingdom came to be. Where one stood, a monarch fell and the land was rebuilt in a new name decades later. Few people know when, but hope for the land finding its old semblance of peace was lost after the Meridian Forest appeared. Consuming land, buildings, and people like wildfire, trading order for wilderness.

Rumours claim the Forest was created by the earth itself. Dirt so tired of needless violence, it grew twisted and magic filled roots grown from the woe planted there. Others speculate that a great wizard cursed the land to spite a Queen who had long since wronged him, claiming her body as the final ingredient to declare the ground untameable.

A few quiet murmurs, passed around campfires on only the darkest of nights, tell of a great war between Land and Sky. That above the clouds resided powerful giants and their children. These giants were cruel and controlling, keeping their children hidden from the world below. The day the children of the sky descended to Elegy to discover their independence, angered many of the giants up above. These murmurs crescendo as they tell of the battle devouring many years and many lives, until two giants took their place alongside their children to fight, swaying the tide in their favour. Once the battle was finally won, the two giants were so wounded, with their blood drenching half the continent, that they died as soon as the white flag was raised. Using the last vestiges of their magic as they fell to seal up the hole in the clouds to protect their children one last time. Banishing their fellow giants to the sky, before laying down to rest in Elegy’s weeping arms. Nature fed from these Sovereigns; rotting, feeding, and growing into the Meridian Forest.

Regardless of which rumours you lend your ears and beliefs to; the truth remained that the island of Elegy was overrun by the cursed forest filled with magic, weapons, and grief.

First to tame the land was William Solaire. A man of great wealth who ventured into the forest alone, and emerged wielding a ruby encrusted sword and a plain waterskin. He claimed they were gifts bestowed to him by a woman from a lake. With it, she had entrusted to him access to the fountain of youth and a message. 

My sisters and I in Meridian’s care,

do we three find our rests.

But we each have secrets to share,

For those who conquer our tests.

Word spreads fast of mysterious women handing out swords and kingdoms to ordinary men, and soon the land was flooded with adventurers. They searched high and low, many losing their lives in the process. None were able to find one of the other sisters. It became nothing more than a dream to those travelling there, as time wore away ambition.

Until one day when a poor man was found stowaway on a merchant ship, hoping to trade with King Solaire. This man is the first we follow in these tales.

The first mate’s shriek echoes through the galley, as she drags a young man up to the top deck by the ear. “CAPTAIN!”

“What is it?” The gruff voice of the haggard captain replies limping out of his office.

“We've got a stowaway, sir,” she says, shaking the young man at him.

“Ow! Get off me!” He protests, squirming in her grip until he tumbles to the floor in front of the captain.

The old man sighs, “Get up, boy.”

“I'm not a boy.” He grumbles. “I'm twenty-four.”

The crew that had slowly gathered around the trio bursts into hysterics. 

“Great another child to join Elaenor and Frank.” A crewmate snorts, earning a scowl and kick from the first mate.

The captain holds up a hand. “What's your name then, boy?”

“Gabriel Shaw, but everyone just calls me Gabe.” He says, reluctantly taking the hand and pulling himself up.

“Nice to meet you Gabe, I'm Captain Jacob Talbot. Welcome aboard the Oto'Enid. Now, to what do we owe the pleasure of you stowing away on our ship today?”

“Our?” Gabe sidesteps the question.

“Ours,” Jacob laughs. “You think I'm arrogant enough to claim this whole ship as my own? I'd have a mutiny on my hands before I even left port.”

Gabe scuffs his shoe against the deck, shame-faced. “I guess I thought… if you're the Captain, you're in charge.”

“Oh don’t worry,” he places a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I am still very much in charge. I’m just not an asshole on top.”

Gabe gulps at the weight, recognising the assertive tone as one not to be messed with. No matter how jovial he seemed with his crew - Gabe was an outsider.

“Can I stay?” He pleads, swallowing his pride. “At least until we reach land, I can't swim so great.”

The first mate chuckles, “We're not the type to toss people overboard, let alone young lads like yourself. If we were, we would've tossed Frank long ago.”

“Oi!” A young man, about the same age as Gabe, emerges from the trap door he's stood next to.

“Oh fuck!” Gabe screeches, hopping out the way. “Watch it!”

“Sorry, my bad!” He rubs the back of his neck bashfully, “just heard sass coming from Elaenor up here: didn't realise we had a newbie.” He says jabbing a thumb over at the first mate.

Before Gabe can correct him, Captain Talbot cuts him off.

“Well timed, Frank.” Jacob rumbles, ruffling his hair as Frank joins them on the deck. “This is Gabe. Go get him some of your clothes. Who knows how long he's been in those.”

“Huh?” Gabe blinked, looking down at his torn shirt, and thumbs over the stain on the too small trousers.

“Your clothes are ruined, Gabe.” Elaenor chimes in. “You and Frank seem about the same size, and we can't have you wearing one thing the whole time.”

“C’mon!” Frank grabs Gabe by the scruff and yanks him down into the trapdoor where the two tumble down the ladder.

“Ow…” Gabe rubs his head. Maybe before he had thought this was a dream when he wasn’t immediately thrown overboard; but if this headache was anything to go by, this had to be real.

“My bad, again.” Frank holds out a hand. “I'm just so excited to have someone cool on board.”

“Cool?” Gabe snorts in disbelief. “Not sure about that.”

“Uh, yeah! You're a stowaway travelling to a far off land. I'm only here because my dad and sister are.” Frank explains, gesticulating wildly as he leads Gabe towards his quarters.

“Well, I'm only here because of my dad too. So, not cool.” Gabe picks at the sleeve of his shirt.

If he senses the tension in the admission, Frank doesn't mention it.

After trailing through the gently swaying corridors, the two arrive at a chipped wooden door with ‘FRANK’ carved just under the porthole.

“Once you've settled in, you can add your name underneath too! Just don't cross any bark lines. It's bad luck.”

“What are you talking about?” Gabe lets a small laugh loose for the first time and Frank lights up at the sight.

“It's bad luck to carve wood bark! Especially if it's your name, even just the first letter. The fae fuck with that stuff and you do NOT wanna mess with them.” He nods enthusiastically, opening the door and ushering Gabe inside.

“That's ridiculous. Fae aren't real.”

“Oh, you're in for a surprise.” Frank is unphased as he begins digging through the mess to leave space for Gabe, tossing various clothes his way. “You know the land we're heading to is literally overrun with an enchanted forest.”

“Allegedly enchanted forest.” Gabe rolls his eyes.

“It is!” Frank insists, managing to unearth a second bed from beneath a collection of half folded laundry. “Listen, King Solaire is literally an immortal king because he met one of the Sisters!”

“Have you met the so-called immortal king? Or one of the ‘sisters’?” Gabe raises an eyebrow amused.

“Well, no, but that doesn't mean you should dismiss it immediately. I'm telling you now - don't mess with magic.”

“Alright well, I'll keep an eye out.” Gabe sighs, humouring him. He pauses for a moment, running a thumb over the soft material in his hand. “And thank you.”

“You can't thank me for warnings you're not taking.” Frank grins over his shoulder.

“For the clothes!” Gabe throws a shirt back at him. The two burst into laughter, their joy filling the corridors of the ship.

Up above, the Captain smiles, welcoming the levity that comes with youth onto his ship. The young men’s mirth music to his ears.

~

Weeks passed with Gabe aboard the Oto'Enid. When he’d asked the Captain where he'd gotten the name from, he just shook his head gravely and claimed such things were gifts and not to be questioned. 

The Captain assigned Gabe the same training as his son in learning the plethora of roles on the ship. Together, he and Frank worked on the ship under the dutiful eyes of the crew. Each member offering a form of training or wisdom to the two young men. Frank complained and called them chores, but Gabe relished the opportunity to learn something other than military tactics and coldness.

It was a blindingly sunny day when the first call of land was announced. Gabe was scrubbing the deck thanks to a particularly difficult encounter with an octopus that he was looking forward to eating later in revenge when the Captain’s deep timbre calls out.

“Land ho, crew!” He calls, beaming from ear to ear.

“Really? Where?!” Frank suddenly appears, scrambling up the rigging with a speed Gabe could only envy. Following behind his scrappy best friend, Gabe gazes out to watch in awe as an enormous island takes up the horizon where once there was only sea and sky.

“Woah,” he whispers, awestruck.

“Woah is right.” Frank nudges him, starry eyed. “I'm going to climb every single tree.”

“Hey, you two!” Elaenor calls up to them. “Get some stuff ready for a first exploration. King Solaire sent some folks to greet us.”

Quick as a flash, the two are sprinting to their room (Frank runs face first into the door), pulling clothes on at breakneck speed (Gabe falls over), and arriving back on deck, breathless.

Closer to the island now, they can see a small collection of people dressed in red and silver regalia. One particularly imposing figure sits proudly on a chestnut mare. She's dressed more elaborately than her guard and has a twisting silver circlet nested in her short hair.

Gabe is shaken from his revere by Elaenor slapping him up the back of his head and pointing towards the anchor. Refocusing, he rushes to help push it overboard, watching it sink to the bottom, and then joins the rest of the crew as they pile into the dinghies.

He ends up with Frank and Elaenor in the Captain’s boat, who gives the three a stern look. “Now we're meeting with King Solaire’s party because he's been incredibly generous in offering us food and shelter until we find our feet. When we get ashore you will bow to his daughter who he has sent to greet us.”

“Yes sir!” The three youths of the crew chime together.

“I heard rumours that Princess Alexis was only named the daughter of William because he found her as a thief trying to steal the magic water thingy that makes him live forever.” Frank whispers to Gabe as soon as his dad’s focus is on rowing again.

“How do you always know this stuff?” He eyes his friend suspiciously.

“Trade secret.” He shrugs.

“He reads his captain’s missives when he lets him. Perks of being the captain’s son.” Elaenor leans down between them.

“Shut up, Ellie!” Frank pushes her face away.

“Don't call me Ellie, we're basically the same age!” She slaps his arm and Gabe has to dodge out of the way as Frank tackles her. Gabe clings to the side of the boat as the movement rocks the boat aggressively.

The wrestling is broken up when both of them are lifted up by the scruffs of their necks by two giant hands. “I literally just told you both about leaving a good impression.” The captain says in fond exasperation. “Would it kill you two to get along?”

“Yes.” They say in sync before laughing together. The captain just sighs at their antics.

Gabe is distracted by something in the forest just to the left of the welcome party. Behind one of the imposing trees, he sees the outline of something gold, shining amongst the moss and dirt. He sees, for just a moment, what could be a hand. His body moves, no thought behind it, towards the sight. The first foot forward slips over the edge of the rowboat and plunges into the water. He falls fast, only saved by Elaenor, who grabs him by the sleeve before he can sink completely. He still manages to get a nice faceful of salty water. It wakes him from his stupor, and by the time he wipes it from his eyes, the gold vision is gone.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Elaenor scolded, while Frank mirrored her worried expression.

“You two look like mad parents.” Gabe snorts as he flops his wet hair out of his face. 

Elaenor flinches, covering her braids protectively. “Stop acting like a wet dog, there's literally royalty on the beach there.”

Frank pales suddenly at the mention of royalty, “Do I bow or curtsey? I can’t remember.”

“I don't think it matters… right?” Gabe falters in his assurance, looking to Elaenor who also looks panicked.

“Captain!” She hisses, “bow or curtsey?”

“Whatever you kids want to do.” He huffs. “And if that happens to include helping me row at any point it would be appreciated.”

“Not a kid.” Frank pouts as the trio settle in and take over rowing for the last stretch.

Jacob shoots him a look. “Then act like it.” This silences any lingering complaints.

As the crew of the Oto'Enid hit the shore, the knights flanking Princess Alexis help them up and out of the boats.. 

Up close, she looks more like a warlord than the fancy tapestries and paintings Gabe had seen of princesses back home. She's regal on her horse, silver armour covering her entirely, except for the crimson cloth bleeding through the gaps. Her circlet is dripping with rubies, but despite the warmth of the colour it is not reflected in her cold silver eyes.

“Captain Talbot I presume? My father had a message that you would be arriving first, as Captain Keaton was delayed by storms,” her voice lazily calls to them from atop her steed, making no move to greet them herself.

Captain Jacob bows carefully. “You are right, your highness. May we extend our gratitude to you and your father’s hospitality.”

“You may.” She sounds almost bored as she examines the hilt of her sword, not even deigning to look at the now assembled crew. “Come. My father wishes to greet you himself over dinner.”

The captain nods and begins carolling everyone, carefully bringing the dinghies to shore to hide within the tree line.

Gabe can't help but look out for a sliver of gold amongst the branches, as he pulls the final boat in. 

~

Dinner was a dull affair to say the least. Having grown accustomed to the casual and warm gatherings in the ship, it was an unpleasant return to the stuffy formal meal times his father insisted on.

Frank gushed about the King’s tale of the Sister and her Prophecy the moment they were shown to the privacy of their new room. Gabe wasn't all that interested. He missed the coziness of the ship over the lavishness of Skyrise Castle. 

He understood what Captain Talbot had meant now. There was a threat to King Solaire. He seemed perfectly civil, even nice - but it was clear who was in charge. Gabe supposed that's what worked for ruling a kingdom, but it didn’t seem like much fun.

It's these thoughts that keep him up all through the night. Even as Frank finally passes out and the moonlight is all that is left in the room with him. Its shine catches on one of the many silver embellishments painted on the ceiling and it reminds him of that golden shine from the beach. Determined for some fresh air and exploration, Gabe carefully climbs out the bedroom window. He was fortunate to have been given one on the ground floor, he thinks to himself as he topples gracelessly into a bush. Regardless of how graceful his exit was, he was out of the castle and free.

Already the fresh air was a comfort to him. After weeks on the open sea - the night sky was a welcome view. 

He found a small path heading north-west towards the woods and meandered along its trail. He searched the sky for his favourite constellations, so enraptured by the constellations that he misses a stray root and trips into a thicket of thorns.

He cries out as a particularly nasty branch scrapes a harsh line down his face. Tasting the blood in his mouth, he panics; thrashing, attempting to break free. 

Suddenly he hears a voice cry out. “Just stop moving for fuck’s sake and let me help you!”

He stills. He's not sure why he trusts the voice so much, but they sound… nice.

He feels gentle hands deftly weaving through the thicket, carefully unpicking each thorn from his clothes and skin. Thinking they're done, he sits up.

“Wait there's-” there's a loud tearing sound as his shirt rips completely down the middle. “-still a thorn in your shirt.” The voice finishes with a sigh.

Gabe’s curse dies in his throat when he looks at the figure in front of him. Tall and ethereal, they stood, gold draping over her in soft rivulets. Waves of ginger hair frame their face, with curious eyes that watch him.

“Hi.” He says after far too long a pause.

“Hi.” They respond, seemingly just as caught off guard. “You don't seem to look where you're going much.” She observes with a tilt of her head while she fidgets with her fingers..

“I- uh what?” Gabe stutters.

“This is the second time I've seen you fall.” They fail to conceal the twitch of their lips.

“Well-” Gabe flushes, wrapping the tatters of his shirt around him. “It was dark!”

“Oh, your shirt.” She reaches out a hand, holding the fabric delicately. “I'm sorry I should have been quicker.”

“No, no,” Gabe reassures. “I was the one who rushed.”

“I can… fix it for you if you want?” she offers, looking up at him hopefully and he feels his heart skip a beat.

“I mean you don't have to… only if you want to.” 

When they smile at his answer, Gabe has to force himself to look away.

“Okay, take it off.” they turn away, calling over their shoulder as they begin examining the nearest tree.

He complies and stands there awkwardly while the mysterious stranger pads around the tree. Spotting a particularly large mushroom she beams and gently pulls it from the tree roots.

“Here.” She hands it to him expectantly.

“Right. Uh, thank you.” He looks at it, then back up at her, then back down at the mushroom before raising it to his mouth.

“No, no, no, no!” She grabs his wrist. “It's for the bleeding.”

“Oh.” He tries not to let the embarrassment get to him. 

“Swap?” She holds out a hand for his shirt, which he hands to her instantly.

Glancing dubiously at the mushroom, he begins blindly dabbing it on his face. “Are you fae or something? Because my br- friend told me there were fae in these woods.” 

They look up, surprised. “Oh! No. The fae haven't been here for a long while.”

He sighs in relief, “Oh, good. Can I ask your name? I'm Gabriel - Gabe, for short.”

“You can shrink?” Her jaw drops open.

“I can shrink…?” He snickers before falling into full laughter as he realises what she meant.

“What?” They cross their arms. “You're just as bad as my sisters.”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just, I've never heard that before.” He wipes a tear from his eyes. “I mean, people normally call me Gabe because it's a shorter name.”

Her mouth forms a little ‘o’ shape. “That makes more sense. In which case - I am Today, but you may call me Andromeda for short.”

“You can't say Andromeda for short, it's a longer name.”

“Yes, I can. A galaxy is far smaller than what is found in today.”

“Is Andromeda just the one you prefer?”

“...Maybe.”

Crack. The breaking of a branch snaps both their heads up. Before he can move, she disappears into the trees; gold dress whispering into the darkness.

Picking up the nearest tree branch Gabe holds it and stands between where they left and the sound had come from.

“Gabriel?” 

He startles as he recognises the voice.

“K-king Solaire?” His stick lowers to the ground.

Mirroring him, William lowers and sheathes his long shining blade. A formidable silver thing, encrusted with various bloody stones along its jagged hilt.

“What are you doing out in the Meridian so late? It's dangerou- where is your shirt?” He blinks, having finally processed the sight in front of him.

“Tripped.” Gabe blurts out, in quite possibly the least convincing tone in the entire history of conversation.

William just raises an eyebrow. “You… tripped?”

“Yeah into the thistles there.” He gestures to the bush behind him.

“...Right. Well I’m sure your father would prefer you not be out so late; especially not here.”

He puts one hand on his shoulder and the other on his sword as he guides Gabe back to the castle. Gabe tries to ignore how nice it feels to think of the Captain as his father.

Returning to the castle side by side with the King of all people, was far more embarrassing than he’d hoped. Especially shirtless. He avoids Jacob’s gaze as the captain wordlessly drapes his cloak over his bare shoulders, uttering a small “thanks” as he does. He doesn’t hear a response, nor any of the words the two older men exchanged as he thinks over the evening, deciding that a bit of humiliation was worth meeting Andromeda.

“Gabe?” The rumbling tone of the captain breaks through his wandering thoughts.

Panic overtakes him as he remembers exactly why he should not be daydreaming. “I’m sorry,.” he blurts out. He double takes as he realises the King is no longer in the room with them.

“I asked if you were alright.” A frown creases Jacob’s face as he examines Gabe’s face. “Are you?”

“Oh.” He blinks twice. “Yeah I’m good - just thinking.”

“About?” Jacob says carefully, allowing him to expand in his own time.

Gabe considers for a minute, twirling the corners of the cloak around his fingers absentmindedly. Andromeda hadn’t asked to be kept a secret, but he didn’t want to scare them off. ‘If the king hasn’t already’ he thinks bitterly.

“Is leading a kingdom really so different from being a captain?” He chooses to go with the other question that had been lingering in his mind for now.

Jacob blinks once, then twice before he laughter bursts free from his chest. “Now what has driven you to that question?”

“Just,” Gabe considers his words carefully, “if I was in charge it seems easier to just tell people what to do. But it doesn’t feel right when I see King Solaire do it.”

“Son,” he places a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I could say some profound shit about leadership, but the truth is I can't tell you to care for other people. You learn in time you can't man a ship alone. Not in my experience at least.”

Gabe finally realises what the look in the rest of the crew’s eyes was whenever they looked at the Captain. It was something he'd never seen be earned before. Respect. His father had always fought tooth and nail for a scrap of what this man before him garnered in abundance. 

“Don’t tell the king I said that.” Jacob winks as he straightens up, eyes shining with amusement. “For what it’s worth Gabe, if you ever do become a king, I think you’d be alright.”

The young man snorts. “Sure, I’ll make sure you get the first look at my crown.”

“How about we get you a shirt first, hmm?” The Captain chuckles, leading him back to his room.

~

It’s a few days before Gabe hears anything from Andromeda. He returns to his palace room after an exhausting day learning animal care in the stables. And there, carefully placed on the bed, is his shirt wrapped in twine with a single pink carnation on top. 

He unties the knot with a slow reverence, pulling out the short that had been more than fixed; it had been improved. The previously blank and slightly small shirt had now been tailored to a more flattering shape, with embroidery transforming it from mere clothing to tapestry. And flowers, petals, and roots wove across its once plain expanse. As he opens the shirt to get a better look at it, a large waxy leaf drops from its folds and flutters onto his bed.

‘I apologise for disappearing like that the other night. I was startled. I didn't trust whoever interrupted us would be as kind to me as you have been. I hope the shirt is fixed adequately enough, it was rather rushed.’ 

He glances fondly at the gorgeously intricate and ‘rushed’ designs. 

‘Meet me by the thicket where you tripped, tonight. I would like to see more of you.

Today and always,

Andromeda.’

Gabe looks out the window at the sun sinking slowly below the horizon, and smiles. Quickly swapping out the shirts he opens the window, swinging his legs over the edge.

“Where are you going?” Elaenor’s voice chimes in from behind him.

“I was just watching the… sunset?” he winces, privately vowing to get better at lying, fast.

“Uh huh,” she says disbelievingly, leaning against the door. “Talk to me Gabe. Frank overheard William telling Captain that he found you in the Meridian the other night.”

“I-”

“Please don’t lie,” she whispers, looking him dead in the eye. “I’m asking as your friend, not as your first mate.”

“I’ve been seeing… someone.” He sighs, spinning back around to face her fully. 

“Same someone who gave you that shirt? Ew! Wait, is that why you were shirtless in the woods?” She asks incredulously.

“It got ripped and they fixed it for me!” He protests, face flushing. “Nothing else.”

“Dammit! I was rooting for you, Gabe.” She sighs, pulling out her notebook and pencil, making a note. “Now I owe Frank five silver.”

“You bet on me?” He asks, offended.

“I bet on you getting laid, Frank said there was no way.” “I will be having words with Frank.” Gabe grumbles.

Elaenor puts the notebook away, searching his expression carefully. “Are you safe?”

“Yes. Promise.” He stands up, pressing his forehead to hers. A ritual he picked up from Frank. 

She exhales softly, closing her eyes. “They must be a hell of a person. Just keep us in the loop. Or I’ll have to steal that fancy sword and hunt you both down.”

He pulls back, grin splitting his face. “You’d have to catch me first.”

“Just go!” She slaps his arm. 

Not to be told twice he dives out the window just as the bedroom door opens.

“DID GABE JUST DIVE OUT THE WINDOW?” he hears Frank shriek alongside Elaenor’s entertained laughter as he runs towards the forest.

~

He arrives at the thicket, breathless. Pausing for a moment, he looks around hopefully for any sign of Andromeda.

“You wore the shirt,” they muse from behind him.

He spins around instantly. “Of course I did, it’s beautiful.” 

“Well, I am glad you like it, Gabe. And sorry I took so long to get it back to you.” 

“If it means I got to see you again, I’m not complaining.” He puts a hand out to lean on a tree but completely misses, stumbling back. Closing his eyes, he braces for an impact that never comes as strong arms wrap around his back. He opens them to see almost glowing amber eyes framed by a halo of golden hair. 

“...Hi,” he breathes, unable to look away.

“Hello,” she whispers, and he swears he could happily listen to nothing but her voice for eternity.

“Y-you’re strong.” 

“Oh! Sorry, too tight?” her brow creases and she sets him upright, taking a step back.

“No, no,” He closes the gap again, taking their hand gently. “It was good! I mean fine, like, ok.”

She looks down at where their hands are conjoined, before meeting his gaze once more. “Okay.”

“I like your eyes. Like stars, burning suns.” He murmurs, gently moving some hair out of their face.

“I like yours too. They remind me of lily pads in the water.”

“Lily pads?” He asks quietly.

“You’ve never seen them before?” 

Gabe considers for a moment, subconsciously rubbing his thumb over theirs. “No? I didn’t know there were other water sources outside the Solaire Kingdom.”

“There are plenty. There’s one just south-west of here that has an abandoned castle nearby - Oh! And there’s the Wolf Paw lakes if we go even further west.” She perks up, beginning to excitedly gesticulate. “Come!” 

They squeeze his hand and pull him along as they lead him through the woods.

~

The following weeks are filled with clandestine meetings under stars and moonlight; the two talking for hours. Had you asked either what they discussed, the best answer they could give you is a shrug with a dreamy smile. For a few precious hours a week they explored the forest together.

His longing stares into the wild forest at the Kingdom’s border were not missed by his friends. On the days he wasn’t able to meet up with Andromeda - Elaenor and Frank suffered through lamenting sighs and wistful looks to the middle distance.

“He is smitten.” Elaenor says dumbfounded, as they watch him carving ‘A + G’ into a tree with his pocket knife with a dreamy expression.

“Yeah, smitten.” Frank looks over at her, face resting on his palm.

“We’ll never finish mucking these stables if he keeps up like this.” She sighs, stabbing her pitchfork into the hay. “I miss the sea.”

Frank nods and leads a horse into their newly cleaned stable. “I know what you mean. Weird to be on solid land for so long.”

“It’s not like we’ll be here long.” She reasons.

“I guess? I’m just so bored. I don’t see why even when off the boat I’m stuck doing the worst chores with you and Gabe.” Frank grumbles, leaning his head against a horse’s side. “And he just disappears all the time to see his mystery sweetheart!”

“Wanna spy on them?” She raises an eyebrow at the offer.

“Ellie! That is the most outrageous thing I have ever heard you suggest. To spy on our dear and wonderful friend Gabriel? To see his mysterious partner? Tonight? I would never.” He gasps sarcastically.

“Sunset, outside your room, asshole.” She flips him off, walking away from her pile. “And watch out for the pitchfork!” She calls back over her shoulder.

“The what?” Frank sticks his head over the stable wall, just as said pitchfork falls down onto his head.

Elaenor just cackles at his cursing.

~

“Andromeda!” Gabe calls out to her, waving enthusiastically running towards the lake’s bank. 

As soon as they spot him, their face lights up and they run towards him. Once they’re within distance, he grabs them by the waist, lifting them up in a spinning hug. He whirls her around until they come to a breathless stop.

“Hello, Gabe.” She smiles, smoothing his shirt over the flowers. “I missed you.”

“Me too.” He ghosts his hands over hers, swallowing nervously. “I actually brought you something.” From his back pocket, he pulls out a pocket square. “Here.” He hands it to her looking away. 

In the bushes nearby, Frank slaps Elaenor’s arm excitedly. “He spent weeks learning this with one of the maids.” He hisses to her.

“Oh, Gabe.” Andromeda takes the cloth from him reverently. On it is a roughly embroidered scene of shooting stars falling towards the lake below. Bright explosions of colour dance behind each asteroid with small beads along their trails. It’s messy and rudimentary. And to Andromeda it is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. She looks up at Gabe, and reconsiders. Maybe the second most beautiful thing.

“I wanted to give you something back. I’ll get better, promise,” he states bashfully. 

“I really, really like it, Gabe.” She holds it against her heart. “It’ll never leave my side.”

‘Neither will I, hopefully.’ he thinks quietly to himself. 

Elaenor makes a fake gagging sound while Frank shushes her, a little too loudly. Gabe and Andromeda are broken out of their trance. This time, Andromeda doesn’t run, she puts a hand protectively over Gabe’s chest. Flinging a hand at the bushes, the plant splits down the middle in a creaking of branches, revealing Frank and Elaenor to the pair.

“Who are you? Why did you follow us?” She commands, hand still outstretched, pointed at the pair.

“Frank? Elaenor?” Gabe asks disbelievingly. “Why are you two here?”

“We just wanted to see who this mysterious stranger was!” Elaenor defends, hands up. 

“And you couldn’t just ask me?” Gabe clutches his chest, and Frank tries to ignore his friend’s expression when he asks.

He pleads, looking between the two. “We didn’t mean anything by it, we swear.” 

“What? Because I’m a Sister?” Andromeda hisses, standing between the three now. “Is that all this was? One big ploy, to use me?” 

“A Sister?” Gabe takes a step towards her, reaching for her. “I didn’t even know - h-how was I even meant to set this up? I promise I wouldn’t.”

“I’ve seen what people are like! For too long I have seen how they hunt, and take and… I thought you were different, Gabriel.” Their eyes are sparkling as they blink back tears. 

“I’ve been nothing but honest with you, I promise!”

“He is, he didn’t know,” Elaenor chimes in. “Please believe us when we say that.”

Frank nods emphatically. “Hand on heart, I swear.” 

Slowly she lowers her arms, trembling slightly. 

“Can we have time alone?” Gabe implores his friends. “You said you trusted me - prove it.”

Elaenor moves to say something but Frank holds her back. He looks Gabe in the eye and nods, and without saying a word, pulls Elaenor away. Andromeda watches them disappear between the tree trunks.

“Gabe…” She chokes out a whisper, picking at the hem of her dress. “I like you. Far more than I was ever supposed to. Please. Tell me I was right to trust you.”

“Can I touch you?” Gabe holds out his hand to her.

She nods wordlessly, stepping closer but avoiding looking at his face. Gently, he cups their cheek, pulling them ever so slightly closer before pressing his forehead to theirs.

“This.” He breathes softly against her. “This means you can trust me. I give myself to you. I didn’t even know you were a Sister… or quite what that is, if I’m honest. But I like Andromeda. I like you.”

Her breath hitches. Then, after a pause, the words spill out. “I need to show you something.”

“Okay.” He takes her hand with a tentative smile, giving it a squeeze. “I’m always right behind you.”

Carefully she begins to lead him through the Meridian. Their footsteps were different to how Gabe had seen before. There was an uncertainty in their grip, contrasting their confidence in the direction he was being taken. Up ahead, he sees the first of Wolf Paw Lakes, water gently lapping against the banks of the central open pool as they approach. The two trepidatiously make their way towards a small cave entrance, with ivy and moss draped elegantly across it.

Brushing the plants aside, Andromeda picks up a small lily with glowing golden threads shining through the petals. Blowing on it, the threads light up, filling the cave passage with a dancing orange hue.

“Wow,” Gabe whispers as the dark is banished. “How did you do that?”

“Magic of course,” She replies conspiratorially like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“It’s real?”

“I mean… yes?” They gesture to the glowing plant.

“I thought Frank made it up.” 

She laughs pulling him up a ledge, emerging into a small clearing. Scattered around are hundreds of the glowing lilies in a technicolour spray, projecting rainbow flecks all over. In the centre, there’s a roughly hewn stone with a large sword plunged in its centre. 

Andromeda finally stops, turning back to him, but not letting go of his hand. “I… want to give you something too. I have for a while now.” 

He lets them talk, giving their hands a small squeeze. 

“I am one of the three Sisters. Each of us are the last vestiges of magic that didn’t disperse into the Meridian Forest. Each of us was left with two gifts to give. We decided to give these to the land anew, choosing those we thought most worthy. I chose not to choose” She squeezes his hand gently back. “I was so… afraid of people. I wanted my gifts to be safe, hidden, away from the hunger I saw in others. Not you though. And hopefully, now I can start trusting more. Gabe. I don’t know if you’re worthy, only the magic can decide now, but you’re the only one I want to try.” 

“You think I could be a King? Like William? I can’t do that, in complete charge of everything. The lone seat at the head of a long table.”

“Who says you have to be like William?”

“You said I would be King if I passed your test.”

“That doesn’t mean you’ll be William.” Andromeda carefully smooths over the new forming crease on his brow. “You’ll be Gabe. And don’t tell my sister, but that’s much better in my opinion.”

His face lights up at the touch, leaning into it. “I could be like Jacob.” He murmurs, “Earn it, share it.”

The corner of her lips twitch at his words. “That’s how I know I’m choosing right. Even if the sword disagrees.”

“Okay.” He nods with a shaky exhale. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

They carefully press their forehead to his. “I give myself to you.”

Gabe approaches the sword. It’s different from William's - a sturdier, simpler handle with only a single rounded amber stone in the pommel. The blade itself is engraved with stars reaching rays of light down to rows of flowers. He carefully takes it in his hand and pulls. It falls out far easier than he expected and he topples backwards. Once again he feels warm arms wrap around him, catching him at the last moment.

“You did it!” They cheer, spinning him around.

“I did it!” He cries in disbelief. “Woah, okay, getting dizzy.” 

“Oops.” She places him back down, smoothing out her dress. “Okay okay. Ahem, if you could kneel. Gabriel Shaw. You are my Chosen. And so, I bestow unto you these three gifts.”

“I thought it was only two?” 

“Shh shh shh.” They giggle. “You’ll see. This sword is your first. It acts as a symbol of your right to leadership. And this -” They pull some moss from the floor, gently running their hands through it. It lights up at her touch, growing and darkening to a warm brown colour; until she holds a plush fur cloak in her arms. “Is my Shifter Cloak. A gift of Today, permitting you to transform into one creature it deems most compatible with you. It can be split off as many times as needed and sewn into any fabric, as a gift to others, should you wish.” She drapes it around his shoulders. “Do you accept?”

“I do.” He looks up at them with a giddy smirk.

“Then these gifts I do give to you. Along with this optional third, which you are free to reject, should you please.” She slowly kneels down in front of him, leaning in, cupping his face and pressing their lips against his. He reciprocates immediately, sword falling to the ground and hungrily pulling her in closer. Eventually they pull back for breath, pressing their foreheads together, breath mingling as they laugh giddily.

“Hi,” Gabe murmurs.

“Hello,” Andromeda replies.